


Bond'n'Roll

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BAMF Q (James Bond), F/F, F/M, Fluff, Jealous James Bond, Jealous Silva, M/M, Manager Q, Possessive James Bond, Rockstar AU, determined James Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: When one too many managers beg to either be reassigned or threaten to quit and go to SPECTRE, M decides to bring out the big guns and appoints Q to 'Shaken, not Stirred'.Some chapters will contain art by the lovely aliensundermybed. Fic based on their AU.
Relationships: Eve Moneypenny/R, James Bond/Q
Comments: 75
Kudos: 357





	1. M can never relax

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliensundermybed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensundermybed/gifts).



A true summer day in London was a rarity. There was always that one thick black cloud that spread over the city the moment you blinked or that gust of cold wind that brought the cold rain with it from somewhere outside the city and yet today, the sky was as blue as ever and the sun shone so brightly that they were already talking on the news about a major sale spike for sunscreen lotions. People were also less cold and had a more cheerful disposition, even if they were stuck behind huge windows, working.

“I refuse to work with that-that-that overgrown man child anymore! Do you know what he did to me last night?”

M clearly couldn’t share that disposition and neither could the fuming man before her – tough it was also obvious that it wasn’t his fault. James Bond and his band of mischief-makers were to blame for this, like always.

Letting out a small sigh, M quickly pulled out his contract from her desk and placed it before them. “Mister Trunci, while I understand that you’re assigned to a difficult case, so to say, I will not hold back from reminding you that according to the contract we have—”

“You can shove that contract up your arse!” The man interrupted her and actually grabbed the file and threw it away. “Do you know how much SPECTRE offered me? Hell, I’m at a point in my life when I would accept working for them even if they paid less if they guaranteed that I wouldn’t have to breathe the same air as that dysfunctional man!”

M felt her migraine getting worse. She couldn’t even blame Mister Trunci for being on the verge of a mental breakdown since he was the 10th manager just that year that was threatening to quit unless he was reassigned and it was barely June. “I completely understand you, Mister Trunci,” she started to say slowly, holding her hand up to keep him from exploding again. “I will have you transferred to one of our fresher talents effective immediately. Salary will remain the same but if we do not see any improvements in the next four months, it will be brought down to the amount usually received when handling new talent.”

Mister Trunci did not look too happy about that, his face becoming redder and his frown deepening – M suspected that if she put on her good glasses, she would see foam forming in the corner of his mouth. “SPECTRE—”

“SPECTRE will leave you hanging the second our lawyers hit you with a lawsuit for breaking your contract with us.” Maybe Mister Trunci was to blame for some of the things that he had experienced at the hands of the menace. She’ll definitely need to look into when SPECTRE made him the offer. “I would also advise you not to follow whatever advice SPECTRE gave you unless you want that tiresome old cliché of never working in this city – or country, for that matter – to come true.” She shot him her sharpest, toothiest smiles to make sure that the point was driven home.

A few shades whiter, Mister Trunci’s fire completely disappeared. “I was about to say that SPECTRE has nothing on Music Industry 6.” Oh, yeah… He was snivelling enough to practically beg to be messed with. How did M miss this? He’s been working for them for 6 years already. “I promise to give my all for whatever talent you put in my care.”

“As long as it isn’t ‘Shaken, not stirred’.”

Mister Trunci cringed, his smile becoming even more forced than it already was. “I did try my best, but I do draw the line at having a bucket of cheap scotch dropped on my head just because the green room wasn’t stocked with blue M&Ms.”

It was a ridiculous request, true, but not impossible given that the bloody M&M museum was located in London. “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about requests like that. Their parents are very anti-sugar.”

“Good, go—what? Parents?”

“I will e-mail you all the details by the end of the day,” M said dismissively, already too busy buzzing her secretary to acknowledge that Mister Trunci wanted to know what he signed up for. “Is Quentin Boothroyd on a project right now?”

“Yes, he’s managing—”

“Not anymore,” M cut the secretary off. “Send a car to bring him over here. Oh, and tell the driver to show up with a hot mug of Darjeeling tea.”


	2. The pest meets his match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments~ 
> 
> This chapter includes great artwork from our super aliensdoodless.tumblr.com

The weather was much too nice to have a meeting in a stuffy office while wearing clothes and yet there he was, technically dragged into what had to be the most boring thing in the world by what could be considered a small army of bodyguards mixed with corporate suck-ups after they nagged him into putting on a shirt – it was a very tight shirt because he worked too much on his muscles not to show them off and he was still angry that a beer company dared to try to sing them up for advertising.

And, really? How stupid could they be? Him advertising beer with his physique? He was getting a beer-belly just thinking about that and it was making his mood even worse than it already was so he didn’t have any other choice but to kick the M’s office doors open when he finally got there – good thing M finally wised up about some things and no longer had the glass kind.

“Do you have any idea how much money I’d be saving you right now if you didn’t insist on being such a buzz-kill and sending your minions to drag me away from a perfect tan?” He threw himself on the leather sofa he insisted on buying for her just so he could lounge on it and crossed his arms over his chest, amused by how hard she was staring at him. Maybe there had been a time when she could freeze him in place with that but he didn’t care too much to try to remember.

“Bucket filled with cheap scotch, Bond?” M boomed, her secretary running to close the doors and give them privacy. “How many managers do you think are in this world?”

James shrugged. “If my experience taught me anything, none. Just pencil pushers who are dumb enough to come with a beer—”

“Promoting any drink would cause the fan base to see you as a sell-out,” someone interrupted him in the poshest voice he’d ever heard, making James finally take notice of the third person in the room.

He was a tall young man with thick, brown hair that looked like it had been brushed a hundred times to get it to sit just right and with green eyes that called attention to themselves even if they were hidden behind a less than hip pair of glasses. The clothes he wore were also boring, the cream cardigan over the blue and red shirt looking more like something a shiny new teacher in a kindergarten would wear instead of someone working in this building and certainly not someone interrupting him with obvious remarks while casually sitting in M’s office.

Of course, this was also the first time he took this much notice of someone from a first glance so the man was more than pleasant to the eye, James wondering if he could cut himself on his sharp cheekbones or if the posh accent was still present when he moaned – though that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease him.

With an amused huff, James was leaning close to the newcomer. “Shame on you, M, for hiring toddlers. Or is it ‘bring your great-great-grandchild to work’ day?” He looked to M, curious as to what new curses she’d invent on the spot, but it wasn’t she who spoke.

“This is how people look in their early thirties if they don’t follow a diet solely based on hard liquor and salads, Mister Bond,” the man answered in the most bored voice tone possible, not even bothering to look at James.

Good thing too because James looked shocked for an entire second before his mischievous grin returned. “I take it you are here to be my new manager, so why don’t we go somewhere private where you can manage my body all you want?”

Narrowed green eyes focused on him as skinny arms wrapped themselves around the thick file on the desk. “I was hoping that the rumours about your rabbit-like habits to be nothing more than exaggerations but alas…” He trailed off and tutted, getting up in one smooth motion.

James was right in his personal space, even if M’s warning growl was impossible to miss. “So that I don’t waste my time here, are you straight? Gay? Bi? Pan? Ace?”

“Sane,” the man deadpanned, pushing his glasses back up his nose and tilting his head a little to the right to look at M. “I won’t let you down.”

“I didn’t think I’d hear anything else from you, Quentin.” M sounded genuinely happy and relieved and that just made James uncomfortable. “Just keep in mind that I am aware that you’re a miracle worker. “Bond, since you took your sweet time getting here even with the guides I provided you all I’ll offer before sending you off on your merry way is the name of your new manager: Quentin Boothroyd.”

“A name as boring as his clothes,” murmured James, disappointed that Quentin remained silent as he headed to the door. “Since I assume that you’d toss my arse off the building if you catch me tanning in the nude, I’ll excuse myself.” He winked at M before quickly catching up with Q at the elevators and trapped him up against the door, a pleasant electrical surge travelling up his arm and down his spine when he accidentally brushed his fingers against his hair. “Clearly interested in men so tell me… You ever kissed a guy with a tongue piercing?” James asked, sticking his tongue out

Still looking bored out of his mind, his new manager hummed. “Hmm, well I have always wondered if you could pin your mouth shut. Go on, try it. Be interesting for once during this meeting.”

Ego thoroughly hurt, James pulled back. “I’m interesting even in my sleep, you bloody pencil pusher,” he grumbled, fully aware of how much he sounded like a sullen child.

“Though not curious at all, I assume you might be tolerable in your sleep,” Quentin corrected him before sliding into the elevator, keeping the doors open with his foot. “I will be at your penthouse tomorrow at exactly 8 in the morning with the rest of your band members.” Good luck with getting either Alec or Eve awake at that hour – though he might find them preparing to sleep. “Please don’t feel like you need to show me anywhere else where you might have a piercing or I will rip it out. Nothing activates fans like hearing their god was rushed to the hospital due to a wound.”

James felt another pleasant shiver run through his body and his pants getting tighter. At least he had the rest of the day to deal with this most uncomfortable situation.


	3. Meet the band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind comments! 
> 
> Don't forget to give the artist who brought this muse to life with their wonderful art, https://aliensdoodless.tumblr.com/

Glancing one final time in the mirror to make sure that his hair was tousled just the right way, James finally made his way to the main door and opened it, stepping to the side to let the angry Alec fall face-first into the ground. He opened his mouth to mock him and ask how it was possible for someone twice as thin as him to get him to do something other than sleep or fuck at this ungodly hour when a drumstick hit him straight in his chest.

“Jesus, Moneypenny!” James erupted, rubbing the wounded area. “What the hell was that for?”

Stomping deeper into the penthouse, the woman made a show of placing her muddy boots on the sofa. “It’s for whatever you did to make this one want to hold this meeting at this ungodly hour!”

Remembering the reason why he’d bothered to be awake at 8 in the morning, James turned around and grinned when he saw Quentin kneeling, his face perfectly positioned in front of his crouch. “Take a hint from my tights and you’ll make this morning worthwhile.”

Leaning back for a moment to get a better look, Quentin rolled his eyes at the sight of the two tattooed skeletal hands that made it quite clear what was expected of you once you placed your hands over them and focused back on his attempts to help Alec up. “Do you want me to bring you some ice, Mister Trevelyan?”

Ever the opportunist and drama queen, Alec wrapped his arms around Quentin’s neck and even limped while he was being led to an armchair. “If you wouldn’t mind? I can’t feel half my face. Can you touch my face? Maybe my arm is numb.”

Quentin did as was asked, brows furrowed. “Neither is good, Mister Trevelyan. Perhaps I should call an ambulance, just in case you are suffering a heart—”

Alec jumped up as if burned. “It’s a miracle! I’m suddenly feeling even better than before so no need to get any medics involved.”

“Yes, of course, it is,” Quentin said drily, making himself at home by bringing a chair from the kitchen and sitting on it before taking out a slim laptop from his shoulder bag. “Mister Bond, please put some trousers on and take a seat somewhere; we have much to discuss and depending on how it goes, I might have a meeting on behalf of the band at midday.”

“I’ll put trousers on only if you call me James.”

“Mister Bond, we’re not—”

“Meeting in briefs it is then, Q,” James interrupted Quentin. “I guess this is more of a _briefing_ , right?” He added just to underline just how easy he could make puns, leaning back a little to bring all the attention to his crotch while putting his hands on the back of his neck and flexing. “Your name isn’t on-brand with ‘Shaken, not Stirred,” James explained after a few moments of what had to be awkward silence and winked.

Still looking as bored and unimpressed as ever – he probably needed new glasses or something – the newly named Q turned his attention to Alec. “Let’s discuss a way to keep you away from fire so we can get un-banned in some countries.”

The meeting… wasn’t as boring as James thought it would be. The hour almost put him to sleep because Q insisted on going through the very long list of things that put them on the blacklist of some of their favourite hotels and then double-checked with them each item on the green room list just to be sure that no one was playing a prank on him but things got very interesting after that.

Though he’d been their manager for less than 24 hours, Q already had a pretty big folder full of many great ideas to keep the name of the band in the public’s eyes without compromising their image and in the hearts of their fans without making them sell-outs.

Eve was the first to like Q, though it made sense because he wasn’t presenting her with either more conservative or more revealing clothing. She probably fell in love with him not a moment later when she asked if he thought she’d do a bikini shoot for whatever sports magazine and Q started to apologize for assuming from the file he had been given on her that she wouldn’t be interested in that.

James couldn’t remember the last time he found something adorable but that was the perfect way to describe how uncomfortable and startled Q looked when Eve pulled him into a tight hug, pushing his face against her bosoms that weren’t exactly hidden under her net shirt while assuring him that he had been right in his assumptions.

Though Eve loved her body as much as she loved showing it off, she hated when it was required of her to show it off and that was something that most of their former managers didn’t understand. When he next suggested a televised ‘Battle of the Drummers’ between her and four others from ‘the old guard’ with proper judges and no strings pulled to ensure that she would win, James was pretty sure that she was now imagining him as a god.

She went for another attack-hug, but Alec accidentally body-checked her out of his way when he went for Q’s shoulders. Somehow, despite how fluffy the carpet was – James’ partners appreciated the lack of carpet burns so he spared no expense – Q managed to push himself and his chair back in one smooth move, careful not to rest his foot against Alec’s forehead.

“Mister Trev—Alec, I’ll need to scrap everything if you or anyone else in the band gets wounded,” Q patiently pointed out, letting Alec use his legs to pull himself up.

The use of Alec’s first name pulled James out of his daydream that involved himself in Alec’s position while a naked Q was sucking on his lower lip and pushing his head back with his toes. “Why is he Alec and I am Mister Bond?”

“Because Alec has trousers on,” Q shot back and then resumed ignoring him in favour of his meeting.

Q’s plans for Alec involved the internet. Not for porn, like Alec assumed, but a YouTube channel where he would teach people how to play the guitar. It wouldn’t be something of high production since it would stink of corporate involvement and fans hated that and they’d hide his face in the first few videos just to see how many views he could get on his own before ‘accidentally’ revealing something that made it clear who the person was. If everything went as good as Q thought, they’d make a proper ‘reveal video’ where Alec would explain that he just wanted to help others learn.

Q wouldn’t budge on his ‘no blowing up or setting anything on fire’ policy but Alec was still excited about the idea, already writing down some songs that were excellent for beginners.

Topping everything off, most of the advertisement proceeds would be donated to a charity of Alec’s choosing even before revealing his face.

And then finally, just 30 minutes before 11 AM which was probably when Q had to leave to make it to his meeting, he turned his attention to James who, by now, had taken to lounging on the muddy sofa. “You have to do me now, Q,” James purred, licking his lips.

“Such is the plight of a manager,” Q deadpanned, looking somewhat uneasy at his laptop. “I have been informed that you have a special relationship with a certain part of your fan base which makes the other part feel alienated.” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair while biting down on his lower lip which made it extremely hard for James to focus on what he was saying. “I want to start with a raffle to bring random fans on-stage with you. No going backstage, no lewd comments, no alcohol sharing, and no stripping because I was hoping we could get the ‘Make a Wish Foundation’ add this band on their list.”

James frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing against the foundation but Has M even bothered to show you at least five minutes of one of our shows or did she hire you to punish both of us?”

Disappointed, Q quietly put his laptop away and sat up. “Mister Bond, I always research before presenting anything to my clients.” His voice was somehow colder, harder and his eyes became a brighter green and nothing had ever compelled James this fast or this hard to keep still and pay attention. “I did not make this proposition to you without thinking about it or expecting immediate results since, well, it’s you. I also don’t force my clients to go along with everything I come up with so I will have something else for you on our next meeting.”

And with that he waltzed out of the room, leaving James to stare at the door while Alec and Eve elbowed him and whistle. As far as they remembered this was the first time they’ve seen James so openly flaunt his interest in someone only to be brutally rejected at every turn.

The joke was on them.

Q was a Godsend as far as James was concerned. He was bored out of his mind by people throwing their lingerie and themselves at him the second he showed a little bit of skin or vaguely gestured in their general direction. So really, what kind of fool would walk away with his tail tucked between his legs just because he got exactly what he wanted?

Not that he was going to insist if Q said that his advances were unwanted and he knew that he didn’t have to worry about that because Q had made it clear by his threat to turn him into a eunuch that he wasn’t the type of person who would keep quiet about that just because he was working for them.

Still, now that he knew Q was hard to distract and not scared by a ‘proper’ rock star, James would not go out of his way to be scandalous.


	4. Bite marks

Q sighed in relief when he saw James walk into the room wearing actual clothes. He hadn’t shown up without any actual clothes that after their first meeting – though his speech was still 85% innuendos and it didn’t seem like he could function without flirting left and right so part of that first impression was correct – but Q felt that James was the kind of person who would lie in wait to pull the perfect prank.

Though if he was honest, Q had to admit that he worried that the tight leather trousers were a sudden bend away from breaking and the white shirt might as well be missing since James had either decided to drive with the top off during the torrential rain or asked someone to dump a bucket full of water over him moments before entering the restaurant but at least he didn’t look like the centrefold of a porn magazine.

“I hope I wasn’t late,” James said as he sat down across from him, running a hand through his hair in slow motion, one eye closed, a droplet of water very slowly sliding down his chin and Adam’s apple.

Realizing that he was openly staring, Q cleared his throat and focused his attention back to his laptop. “You’re just on time, Mister Bond.”

It was hard to concentrate on the meeting. Then again, it was always hard to be focused at the task at hand and not on what had to be the personification of the saying ‘sex on legs’ when Alec and Eve weren’t present and Q swore that James was aware of that because he always found some way to make him stare.

He felt a little bit lied to as no one had given him a proper warning about James that didn’t have to do with his apparent bad luck manager-wise. Then again, he was the band’s first manager in a long time that didn’t have three hair transplants already and a bag full of pulls meant to keep him alive. Maybe no one knew that James liked to test out his antics and horrible pick-up lines on unsuspecting managers in the right age group before using them on his groupies. Or maybe he wasn’t even doing that and he was just trying to get a reaction out of Q because he was bored.

Because that’s what James was doing, right? He didn’t mean what he was saying because Q was, well, Q. He liked his comfortable clothing and conservative way of dressing for work and he wasn’t a fan of shots or meaningless humping in semi-hidden places. Still, it was hard not to take notice of James, especially since he was so much more than a mass of well-defined muscles with a good set of lungs.

It was on him for assuming that James was a ditz with no thinking abilities outside of how to get himself more game between the sheets but the other managers didn’t go out of their way to present him otherwise to the public.

Q gave himself a mental pat on the back midway through the meeting when James started to describe in a little too much detail the sex act that he felt needed to appear in his next video because he said it matched the unknown melody’s crescendo and Q held back from offering to be his scene partner just to be sure he got the concept right.

He managed to steer everything into less horny and more professional waters by explaining to James that he wasn’t comfortable talking about a video concept without the rest of the band being present or without knowing for what song it was. And then James surprised him by pulling out a beaten up notebook from the back of his pants which was filled with new songs and musical notes.

“Mister Trunci didn’t share that you were already working on a new album,” Q murmured, carefully brushing his fingers against the pages that had three distinctive handwritings on it.

James shrugged, wearing a deserved cocky smile on his lips. “That’s because we weren’t back then but when a muse presents itself in your life, you do not ignore it unless you are a fool. She was kind to us and this took a little over two weeks.”

Q froze. He had been managing ‘Shaken not Stirred’ for a little over three months and he had failed to notice that they were working on something while pushing them to focus on new endeavours meant to get them new fans and cementing the relationship with their current ones. “There must be at least fifteen full songs in here.” An entire album! “Are you sure you want me to see this already?”

James nodded and moved his chair next to Q’s, their hands brushing when he leaned close and started to flip through the notebook. “The song that we want to make the video for is this one. ‘In my dreams’. Can you read the notes?”

Q was glad that he had been too busy setting up Alec’s channel and trying to get two senior managers from different music companies of two legendary bands that he just found out low-key hated each other to agree to a meeting with him for Eve’s project to cut his hair because James couldn’t see the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment as he shook his head.

He always felt bad when bands – especially the new ones – showed him the musical sheets that they stressed over until the notes and breaks were arranged just right and all he could do was recognize the note but not hear the songs they were so proud of.

“Not a problem,” James assured him and gently squeezed his shoulder while putting the notebook away. “I’d love nothing more than to serenade you with them right now but both Alec and Eve said that they would have my heads,” Q rolled his eyes at James’ wink, “if I do that without them being present, so why not drop by my place tonight around 9?”

He had a very important meeting at 6 in the morning the following day which meant that he needed to wake up at 4.30, but… But their songs were also part of their future so Q could drink a bit more tea in the morning. “Sure. I can’t wait to hear how they sound.”

James remained next to him for the rest of the meeting, their knees and shoulders brushing together, James’ new minty aftershave washing over him but Q managed to look like he was unaffected and he was more than pleased that he got through presenting all the new clothing brand offers he deemed as acceptable to present to James without letting his imagination run too wild.

His assistant did not miss his cheerful disposition – or rather, the lack of his usual deep frown. “Am I remembering your calendar wrong or are you coming back from a meeting with Mister Bond?”

“An excellent memory as always, Rowan,” Q said carefully, pouring the freshly brewed tea in his thermos. “No genitals were cut and presented on a silver platter, so no need to worry about mine or your job. I take it that your meeting with Eve went better than expected?” He asked, pointing at the very obvious red patch of skin on her neck that could only be a hickey.

Rowan was quick to cover her neck, face turning red. “S-she was more than happy with the new propositions you had for her and signed off on the art we’ll use for the contest. And these are the pictures she approved for the magazines.” Her face managed to get redder when she handed Q an SD card which meant that Q will have to go over them again and see if they were appropriate.

And just because he was sure that he was going to find something in there that Eve slipped in just for her ‘precious R’ – as she had taken to calling Rowan, even smacking Alec upside the head when she caught him teasing R – he decided to see just how much redder her face could turn. “You can go down to wardrobe to grab a scarf if you want since I believe the mosquito also got you on the other side.”

Now she was red because she was angry. “I hope your good mood will last you through your morning meeting tomorrow.” He should have seen this low blow coming. He might have been her boss but if she felt that he was being a prick for the sake of it, she had no problem treating him in the same manner. “Do be careful with them; I heard they tricked one of the previous managers into showing them an album art which they then stole and accused Shaken of doing that?”

Q doubted there was anyone in the world who hadn’t heard about that. It was all over the internet two years ago, the media describing the hatred between the two fan bases as something akin to a civil war. Frivolous lawsuits flew left and right and promises of careers being ruined replaced greetings. He had never seen M be as angry as she had been then, snapping at people at the slightest mistake and making everyone walk on eggshells around her because she truly was ready to fire them if they so much as inhaled air wrongly.

Now that he thought about it that was when ‘Shaken, not stirred’ started going through managers like mad.

“No need to worry or insult my intelligence, R. I won’t even bring my actual phone with me and the next meeting I have today is with the IT department just in case SPECTRE decides to go the hacking route this time.”


	5. Alcohol shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos :) 
> 
> A wee bit of porn in this chapter.

Q’s eyes never left his once during the private performance, which made the already intimate setting that much more intense. As far as James was concerned, the real world was the one he sang about and in it, it was just him and Q and his raw feelings. The implication of that wasn’t lost on James, no matter what the media thought about him, but he was trying to work through that with the help of his songs.

That turned out to be a horrible idea because now that he was performing for the real Q and his green eyes followed every move and every pelvic thrust he made, what he was feeling was becoming stronger – and then his pants got tighter because Q ditched his boring dark blue jacket and his cream-coloured cardigan, exposing just a little bit of his belly in the process.

Was that too fast? Yes. Was that normal for him? The harpies that were his three ex-wives would seem to indicate that. Was Q the kind of person that James usually felt this way? Well, he loved being challenged and Q did start as a challenge so technically this album had written itself the second Q returned verbal fire.

But mere challenges didn’t inspire an actual album that focused on more than just sex, both Eve and Alec pointed out. All his ex-wives got from him – other than a nice chunk of his ever-expanding fortune – were break up songs in the end and sappy poems in the beginning so what made Q special? What was it about the walking fashion disaster whose ankles he didn’t even see yet that inspired him so?

The answer came as soon as the question was asked. His wit, his sarcasm, his ability to turn every little thing into a lucrative deal that everyone involved was excited about it, his soft brown hair that got wilder with each passing minute, his green eyes that put virgin forests in the middle of summer to shame, his posh accent that always made James picture him sitting on top a throne of pillows made out of crushed, purple velvet while wearing a tunic made out of silk so thin you could see through it, a golden crown resting on his head…

God, what he wouldn’t give to be allowed to feed him grapes.

Then, when the last notes of the final song faded away, the world got brighter because Q smiled and softly clapped. “Every song was wonderful! I will start looking for artists for the album cover right away and do you have a specific director in mind for the video you were talking about earlier?”

James felt pride swell up in his chest and a glance at Eve and Alec confirmed that they felt the same.

“Please keep in mind that I will not approve one that is a fan of explosions,” Q quickly added, stifling Alec’s enthusiasm.

“So I take it that I shouldn’t even bother asking for a flamethrower guitar?”

“He has a notebook full of doodles of that,” Eve said when she saw Q silently debating if he should be truly worried about that or if he should roll his eyes at the joke, not so subtly winking at R while running her hand down her arm before taking the offered towel.

The look Q gave Alec while pushing his glasses back up his nose could freeze the fires of hell. “You are not an extra in ‘Mad Max’, so most definitely not. And don’t bother bringing Rammstein up.”

Alec clicked his tongue and leaned close to James, but still spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “I wonder if you’re just as bossy in bed.”

The second the words left his mouth, James smacked Alec upside the head and Eve threw one of her drumsticks – which hit James right in the middle of the forehead. “What the bloody hell, Eve? I didn’t do anything this time!” It didn’t hurt at all, but Q’s full attention was on him and his soft hands were touching his face while he carefully examined him to see if any bruises were going to form so James was going for an Oscar with his flinching and hissing. “I can’t show up all black and red for my photoshoot tomorrow.”

“I was aiming for Alec this time, I swear!” Eve said, clearly addressing R more than anyone else in the room. “And relax; I’m sure Q will find either a really good make-up artist or a new photoshoot theme if you wake up with a dent in your head.”

“It’s nothing serious,” Q murmured and James wished that he would lean forward and kiss his forehead instead of lightly tapping his shoulder to know that he was done. “Eve, please stop trying to murder your band-mates with drumsticks and Alec, your brand isn’t 'shade' so stop trying to throw it.”

It felt awkward to be the only one who escaped the scolding but good, especially when he saw pride and amazement in Q’s eyes. He couldn’t remember if he saw that in the eyes of their recent managers. He definitely saw money signs. And maybe frustration because it took them a bit to get to where the managers wanted due to them either finding the situations not something true to their image or due to them not liking the way they had been herded in the desired situation, but never something as genuine as what he was currently getting from Q.

And what better way to celebrate this than to pop open one of the many bottles of champagne he had on ice around the room? Well for starters, not drench Q in said champagne.

“I prefer to drink from a glass,” Q said slowly after everyone stopped gasping, glaring as hard as he could at James who was doing a horrible job of hiding the still foaming bottle behind his back.

“As you can see, I have more—”

“One alcohol shower is more than enough as far as I’m concerned so I’ll pass,” Q cut in, glancing at his – thankfully – still dry and still working phone. “Congratulations once again for doing such a wonderful job on the new songs but if you’ll excuse me, I need a good shower and some rest. Have a good night and please don’t overdo it.”

R followed in her boss’ footsteps half a bottle later with Eve suspiciously hot on her heels which just left Alec and him and while they normally had a great time together, James opted out of the promised night of debauchery in favour of having an early night by definition – meaning that he went to sleep at 3 in the morning without being surrounded by naked women and empty bottles of alcohol.

The still-wet Q that slipped in his room a moment later made him quite happy with his choice. “Did you—”

Q shushed him and crawled over him in bed. “I decided that a shower won’t be enough to get this champagne off of me,” he whispered and slowly licked up his middle finger, slipping it in his mouth where he sucked on it for a second before quickly pulling it out with a distinctive ‘popping sound’. “If you catch my drift, Mister Bond.” He slowly rocked his hips against James’ groin just to be sure, closing his eyes and letting out a low moan.

“The least that I can do,” James said hungrily, pulling Q into a heated kiss that left him breathless and wanting more.

Slim, nimble fingers slid down his chest and removed the thin fabric between them and Q forced him to sit upright and stopped their kissing so James could put his tongue to good work and lick down his heated skin. When James’s mouth found a perky nipple and latched on to it, another low moan left Q’s lips and he hugged James tighter to his chest.

“Such a smart mouth,” Q gasped when he sucking turned into nibbling, continuing to very slowly grinding against James’ hardened member. “Don’t linger, Mister Bond. It will be bad for business if I go to a meeting without being properly cleaned, now wouldn’t it?”

“So very bad,” James agreed, rolling Q on his back and placing his legs on his shoulders. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Q spread out _almost_ naked before him, clutching the bed's headboard while panting and clearly in need before lowering his mouth to the needy member that was already covered in pre-cum, making sure not to break eye contact with him.

He wanted to tease some more by brushing his tongue against Q’s tip, but instead of getting a hint of his taste, his mouth dried up a little. Frowning, James tried to engulf the hard member only to start coughing and feel like he was suffocation, mouth now completely dry.

More than a little scared, James jumped back, and suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor with a mouthful of his sheets. Confused, he spat them out and started to feel around the bed for his partner, groaning in frustration when reality finally dawned on him a minute later.

He hadn’t had such an intensive wet dream since high school and he could honestly say that he hadn’t missed them one bit.


	6. Pit of rabid Tasmanian devils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the superb art was done by aliensundermybed, so don't forget to leave some love for them or to drop by their tumblr to do that <3 
> 
> Thank you for all your support so far and I hope you continue to enjoy this story,

Q thought about putting a little bit of makeup when he caught sight of himself in the little mirror by the front door and saw how deep his eye bags were. He opted not to since he believed that a knight could only have a shining armour was if he never did anything. Plus, his tired looks combined with his tight lips would drive the bastards absolutely crazy.

As was his nature, he got to the little dingy coffee shop on time and settled for ordering the single type of tea they had which, while obviously cheap and more than a few days passed its expiration date, still did a good job keeping him warm while the very people who had invited him there were running late.

Q didn’t have to be a genius to know that the intention behind making him wait this long was supposed to be a huge insult. It was beyond unprofessional and insulting to invite someone to a place with dubious spots on the ripped, washed-out wallpaper that went out of style in the 50s where the single waitress was annoyed every time she was forced to look away from her phone by her job, even if they were representing your number one rivals.

The first budget that corporations approved during the start of each trimester was the ‘flexing budget’ as it was common and universally accepted that whenever you had no choice but to break bread with your competitors, you would take them to the most expensive restaurant you can think of and insist they buy the most ridiculous priced item on the menu for which you would pay. This was done to show them that your company was doing much better than theirs and that you were swimming in so much money that you could pay for a fried Dodo bird without giving it too much thought.

The arrival of someone new was announced by the bell above the door letting out an anaemic dinging noise but Q didn’t bother turning around since he did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that he was waiting.

“Looks like I owe Safin a quid because you _do_ look right at home in here,” someone said in a velvety voice with just a hint of an accent.

Now that Q was forced by societal conventions, he turned around and smiled at them, masking his surprise to see not only Silva who the leader of ‘Cyanide Capsule’ but also the lead guitarist – only know as ‘Le Chiffre’ because he was probably a huge Madonna fan in secret – and their new guitarist who was rumoured that he would also provide backup vocals and who Q just found out was named Safin.

No one bothered to at least pretend that they weren’t famous and Q cringed internally when he saw the waitress scoot a little bit closer to them with her phone out. She wasn’t taking pictures just yet but Q did not doubt that she had googled to see if she was really lucky enough to serve ‘Cyanide Capsule’ or if some really good cosplayers popped in.

It wasn’t going to be a long research since Silva was dressed in his usual jeans, black shirt with a rat-related logo on it and brown leather jack while Le Chiffre donned his tightest blue jeans to go with the dark purple silk shirt which might as well not have had any buttons on since only the lower two were buttoned.

Safin was the only one from the band who didn’t attract attention to himself, not only because he hadn’t been featured on any cover magazines so far but because his shoulders were slumped, he had a cap pulled as low as it was possible without outright having it over his face and he was dressed in clothing that didn’t compel you to look at him. He was also the youngest of the group and had not Q recognized the plump man in a cheap grey suit with even a cheaper toupee skulking in the background, he would have assumed Safin to be their new manager.

“A manager isn’t the one who’s supposed to stand out, so thank you,” Q said in a friendly fashion, waiting for everyone to sit – and for the towering bodyguard to shoo away the now stuttering waitress – before doing the same. “To what do I owe this pleasure, gentlemen?”

“Industry courtesy dictates—”

“So you’re that mutt’s new babysitter,” Silva interrupted his manager, giving him another once-over before snorting. “Or is he yours? How old are you, kid?”

Q stopped himself from sighing and rolling his eyes – when did all the kids start looking like 40-year-olds who more than contemplated Botox? – and instead forced himself to laugh. “I have never been asked that in my entire life. I am not surprised you are right behind ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ if you come with lyrics as fresh as that burn.”

The so-far unintroduced manager started to sweat and Silva’s face fell, his aggravation no doubt increasing by the fact that Le Chiffre and Safin where chuckling. “They finally got a manager with an actual pair of balls and a little bit of a bark,” Silva grumbled, turning to glare at his manager. “Why don’t you ask the kid to lend you one of his balls every now and then? I’m sure he has enough to spare.”

Q was amazed that there wasn’t a puddle of sweat under the man by now. “Not that I don’t find your companionship pleasant if I were to compare it to a pit of rabid Tasmanian devils, but is there a point to this meeting, Mister Raoul?”

“But we just got here,” Le Chiffre jumped in before Silva could try to throttle Q.

The temptation to say ‘tough; I’ve been here for an hour now’ was high, but Q wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of openly admitting that he was miffed. “It doesn’t feel fair that I get to enjoy this exquisite cuisine without my clients being present.”

Safin grabbed his hand before he could unlock his phone. “A fight will break out.” His voice was a whisper but he was still heard by his two companions and although he seemed soft, he had no problem glaring right back at them. “I’ll tell Ernst that you bullied his secretary into arranging this.”

As the two slouched in their seats, Q made a mental note to watch for Safin – he was also happy that he had a burner phone with him since he’d heard that the spy world had advanced so much that you could be robbed of all of your digital information. “Should I pretend that I didn’t hear Safin and that I didn’t know even before I got here that you’re trying to size me up or can I go on my merry way?”

“After we take a selfie,” Silva said, throwing his arm around Q’s shoulders at the same time as Le Chiffre leaned closer and Safin scooted further to the left, the sound of a camera shutter ringing in Q’s ears while little white dots danced in front of his eyes because of the phone’s flash. “I do hope they keep you more than the others; you are a lot more fun.”

“And I hope our next meeting will have a point,” Q quipped, shaking hands with the still nameless manager who was muttering apologies under his breath and nodding in Safin’s direction.

He took maybe two steps outside when his phone started to ring and when he saw R’s name pop up, he already knew what it was about. James had seen Silva’s post and he was losing it, probably thinking that Q had met up with him to sell their secrets.

_“I had to take James’ phone away,”_ was R’s way of greeting him and all Q could do was wonder how James could be awake at that hour.

Surely they threw one of those huge parties M warned him about after he left to celebrate the approval of their future album. He even went as far as to make sure that nothing was planned for either band member so shouldn’t James be face down in a mountain of satisfied bodies instead of finding out about his meeting in eerily record time?

“I’ll call M and hope that he’ll believe her when she tells him that I would never sell out—”

“ _Oh, that thought didn’t even cross his mind,_ ” R interrupted Q. “ _He wants to start an online war because Silva got to be the first to post a picture with you and because he had his arm around you._ ” Q thought he heard James yelling something about ‘germs’ and ‘the plague’ in the background. “ _I think he’s demanding a photoshoot with you._ ”

Q blinked. “I’m just the manager.” He picked up more outrage in the background but James was speaking so fast that Q couldn’t understand what he was ranting. Still, it was clear that he was not happy and what kind of a manager would Q be if he didn’t do everything he could – within reason – to make his client happy? But James wasn’t the only client he had to take care of. He had a group and he needed to invest equal time in all of them.

It was a shame that the day only had 24 hours and that he needed to cut a part of it for sleeping and eating. He had three official meetings today, one with YouTube for Alec’s channel that had grown a lot without people knowing who their mysterious guitar teacher was, one for Eve’s surprise autobiographical book that she was going to drop in one month and one final meeting with four different movie producers. M had stepped in in regards to that last one and forced the producers to agree to meet with Q at the same time and try to sell themselves.

Q also had to talk with a few artists for the promised album art, pop again by where Eve’s grand contest was going to take place and because he assumed that a tour was going to happen very soon, he needed to start doing a market study to see where ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ are loved the most around the world. Of course, there was also a tomorrow but tomorrow was for different meetings and new crises.

“See if you can schedule one for today,” Q said with a sigh, eyeing a vending machine right next to a club that looked like it might have technically fresh sandwiches in it. “And tell him that if he touches that phone for a troll comment, I’m making him eat it. What’s his handle anyway?”

_“ NotJamesBond69 is the fake one and JamesBond69 is the real one,”_ R said after a short pause and Q allowed himself one dramatic moment to wonder what he did so wrong in a past life that he had to deal with this. _“You okay there, boss? Or did that literally kill you?”_ R asked when she thought the silence had been too long.

“This sudden headache I have tells me that I’m still alive,” Q assured R, looking around for a drug store. “If it makes things easier for you, feel free to schedule the shoot at the end of the day. Offer to pay extra as I’m sure M will approve since it will keep a war from breaking out.”

How long had James had that original handle and was there anyone in the world that didn’t know that he was also using the fake one? Could he change his original one without causing an uproar within the fandom and making it look like the eternal rebel bent the knee to a manager that? Would James even consider—? Actually, he wasn’t even going to bother asking himself that because that was probably the idiotic hill James would die on.

The stupid thing ended up growing on Q by the time he met with James and the others so all he had to do now was get James to agree to let someone else use his fake handle – because him suddenly not using it would be suspicious – who wouldn’t snitch how they got it and then bring that someone on-board. R was his first choice, of course, but seeing that fans observed even the smallest change, he’d have to find someone who had time to read all of NotJamesBond69’s posts to make sure that there was no major change in the online language.

“A boxing match between Silva and me would make millions,” James said as he crowded Q up against the door the second he walked into the room. “No need to worry about running any damage control because these bad babies will knock that loser out in under a minute,” James continued to brag and Q realized that he was wearing nothing but light blue boxer shorts when he took a step back so he could flex his muscles and kiss his biceps. “Let’s use this—”

“No.” He was too tired and too hungry to play this game with James. “Go change into something casual and don’t you dare make it pornographic.”

“I’ve been told that I can make—”

“You’ve been lied to, now get before the sun starts to rise,” Q snapped, robbed from elbowing James away by R dragging him into a room full of clothes and make-up. “R, how tired are you that you ended up mixing me with Mister Bond? He’s the one that needs to change, not me.”

“M saw the picture on Silva’s timeline and long story short, you both do,” R stressed.

It couldn’t be that horrible, could it? He wondered to himself and then groaned when he checked the post. It was even more horrendous than he had imagined, the bags under his eyes so big that it almost looked like someone had punched him and enough strands of hair sticking out in so many directions that even he took a moment to try to remember if maybe he had sex before the meeting. But his clothes were just fine and they were still spotless since he only had that one dry sandwich.

“Eve offered to help find some clothes that match the band’s brand and your tastes,” R said through the door – because she was a witch that could read minds – right before a very happy Eve let herself in after a short knock and no invite.

Draping a slender arm around Q’s shoulders, Eve directed him towards the corner of the room that had a small sofa covered in clothes. “I’ll also do your make-up but don’t worry; I have taste, unlike colour-blind Alec or eternally horny James.”

Her reassurance didn’t do anything for Q’s anxiety since her style of dressing outside the stage wasn’t his cup of tea.


	7. This feels silly

James posed in the mirror to make sure that he looked hot in the leather harness he picked for the shoot. He had thought about wearing only the harness just to further humiliate Silva but even he was aware that 1. Q would find enough strength in himself to fold him in half and make him eat his genitals and 2. They would be instantly banned from the social platform. Oh, and Eve was probably going to shove all her drumsticks up his arse if he came anywhere near her with his package and Alec… Well, Alec always loved his ideas and would join him but then even more bad things would happen to him because they were surrounded by boring prudes.

“Put one more over your pants and a thick collar and I guarantee that you’ll match with what accessories Eve picked for him,” Alec offered helpfully, holding up the two pieces that he was talking about.

Hearing that made James’ imagination flare up again, last night’s dream still fresh in his mind and something that he was sure he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. “Do you think we’d match even more if it was just the two of us, a bed, and no clothes?”

“Some of your tattoos might match,” Eve taunted as she stepped out of the dressing room, chuckling at Alec’s oohs.

James felt like his brain would explode. “He has tattoos? Where? What are they? How low do they go? Do you think he’ll let me see how low they go?”

“I’m not telling,” Eve continued to tease, flicking James’ nose before wrapping herself around the very annoyed R whose glares were nothing compared to Q’s – as far as James was concerned, at least; it was clear that Eve’s blood froze whenever she was on the receiving end. “But bring down the perviness and the staring,” she added in a serious voice. “He’s uncomfortable enough as it is.”

It took Q ten more minutes to get out of the room with just a little bit of coaxing in the form of blackmail – it was late, the photographer was tired, and they were paying by the hour – and for James, the world slowed down.

His hair was as wild and inviting as ever, eyeliner made his green eyes stand out even more and his skin was milky-white, obviously because of what a good job he had done of hiding himself from UK’s scarce sunrays. James was going to insist on touring in the part of the world where it was impossible not to get a tan.

Q’s skin was exposed because he was wearing a short pair of ripped jeans, a studded belt that matched his studded bracelets, a silver ring that James wanted to switch to another finger and for a platinum one, a very loose tank top that did a blessed horrible job at covering his chest, a small leather collar, and the thing that brought the whole outfit together – a lip piercing that just begged to be sucked on.

“This feels ridiculous,” Q grumbled, resting a hand on his hip. “What is the point of this bloody shirt?” He managed to adjust it just enough to cover the nipple that looked 10 times more appetizing than what James had imagined. “I feel silly.”

James’ face looked strange with that light shade of red covering it. “Hmm, you’re right, less clothing would look better,” he muttered and Alec slapped him upside the head.

“Well, you look like you are part of the band and like you’ll need a broom to keep all of your brand new admirers away from you,” Alec beamed, lightly patting Q on his back. “Doesn’t he, James? The man who seems to be very uncomfortable showing this much skin is just fine in the clothes he’s wearing right now, right, James?”

Oh, James got the hint and he was going to charm Q so much that they’ll get banned from this place and fined for indecency. “You have a piercing?” James heard himself blurt out instead and, much to his horror, saw himself move to poke the silver right in Q’s lower lip.

Q moved faster and slapped James’ hand away. “It took half an hour to get it painted on and made to look this real, so don’t touch it.” He tugged on his shirt again, trying to cover more of himself. “I hope I don’t get a cold.”

When Q pushed passed them and went to awkwardly stand in front of the green screen, James’ heart jumped out of his chest. Two glorious paw prints were drawn on Q’s shoulder blades and all James wanted to do was run his hands over them and carefully examine them to see if he had used a good artist.

“I knew there was a little bit of a rebel in you, Q,” James put forth with a huge grin on his face. “Those clothes don’t look good on just anyone, you know.”

Maybe he was imaging it or maybe it was the lighting that the photographer was already messing with, but it looked like Q had a very light blush on his face. “R and Eve are just that talented. Now let’s just get this over with before I yawn all this make-up off my face.”

Maybe it was determination or maybe it was pure talent, but Q took to the camera like a duckling to water. He fit just right between them and the awkwardness James had seen just moments before the flashes started to go off disappeared without a trace. He knew just how much he needed to tilt his head back, how to cross his arms over his chest to make himself look cocky instead of catty, how to show the world that he ran the band from behind the scenes.

And, most importantly, he felt and looked just right up against James’ chest.

The pictures were going to be too professional to use on Instagram or Twitter, Q explaining that he wanted to use them when the band launched their new album – which explained why a lot of them were just of the band. But he also didn’t deny James his revenge, even letting him explain how he wanted his picture to be and going as far as to not roll his eyes when he ended up being picked up bridal-style by him while Eve pressed a kiss to his cheek and Alec ruffled his hair.

He was less accommodating however when James offered to get him out of his clothes and tucked in a bed, his elbow more painful than Eve’s drumstick – a comparison he could instantly make because Eve waited for Q to hop out of his arms before throwing her weapon at him.

“I’m not encouraging anything,” R started in a soft voice as soon as Q had retreated to the changing room, “but since it would seem that you won’t want to rid yourself of our services anytime soon, why don’t you offer to drive him home and not act like a horny teenager while doing it?”

The comment James wanted to make about the interesting marks around her neck was quickly discarded when he saw the way Eve was looking at him – those knives she was playing with looked too good to be props. Instead, he decided to take R’s advice. “Alec, you mind taking the backseat for this drive?”

“Only if you don’t stop my new friend from joining me,” Alec purred, playing with the photographer’s camera strap.

That might have been an interesting show, but… “If Q takes me up on my offer, do you promise to keep it in your pants until you get to your house?”

Alec clicked his tongue. “You’re cutting in on my fun since this one needs to be back here at 9 tomorrow so you owe me big time, James.”

It was never hard to get Alec to help him and he probably owed him a million things by this point but he assumed it would be hard to get Q to accept his offer. He was wrong. Eve proposed that it was because James had not been slobbering over Q when the offer was made but James was sure it was because Q was too tired so he made sure to be a perfect gentleman.

“Promise you won’t surprise me with a visit on my days off, Mister Bond,” Q sleepily pleaded with James when they pulled up in front of his building.

James thought about his counteroffer for a good minute. “Only if you start calling me ‘James’ already.”

“Well, you can drop by if there’s an emergency, James,” Q said after a heartbeat and smiled before disappearing into the night.

After that, he was not surprised to find himself in Q’s company in his dreams, wearing his shiny new top, clutching the headboard while James made sure lick, tease and suck his throbbing member until he finally heard his name come out those plump red lips in a lost scream to the heavens in pure pleasure.

If only his blasted phone hadn’t started to ring moments before he heard that blessed sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave your love for our super artist aliensdoodless and maybe drop by their tumblr <3


	8. But, wait! There's more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support <3 
> 
> Short update but more beautiful art so please enjoy.

Q foolishly thought that his brand new image would be the last _surprise_ James had for him but he couldn’t have been more wrong if he tried. Not even three days later, when Q called a meeting with the band to present them with the sketches for their future album the agreed-upon artists came up with, James presented him a bombshell – a completed artwork.

The piece was beautiful, Q had to admit. The proportions were perfect, there was nothing wrong with the perspective or angles, the hands looked like they were supposed to, the mix of colours drew the eye to it but didn’t hurt it, and the people represented in it were easily recognizable.

And that was Q’s main problem. “Why does the flashing demon look like me? And why is James presented as an angel dry-humping the flashing demon?” His head was going to explode.

“He’s not _flashing_ and he isn’t being dry-humped,” Alec was quick to correct and Q would normally agree – had the demon not have his face, of course. “It’s a reverse-temptation,” Alec carried on explaining, ignoring how angry Q was. “The angel is lifting the demon from hell with _love_ , his innocent kiss on the cheek ripping the cloth meant to represent—”

“I’ll be shocked that you’re talking like this a bit later, Alec, but what’s important right now is why is my head on the almost naked devil?” Q interrupted with a growl, fixing James with a hard glare because he had to be the culprit.

Alec was the one who broke the silence, sounding honestly defeated and unsure. “I used you as a frame of reference because you fitted the image of a demon that was already being saved that I had in mind. Not that I see you as a demon but you just happened to be my muse.”

“And it’s a beautiful piece,” Q said after a moment in which he processed that Alec was the artist, “but can you understand why I would find this uncomfortable?”

Alec quickly nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you approve it, I will change the face—”

“You’ll change it even if I don’t approve it and I will be given the original and all existing copies if you want to see tomorrow,” Q rushed to make clear and got Alec to flinch before nodding once more. That reaction – from _Alec_ out of all people – made him take a deep breath and force himself to calm down. It was clear now that there hadn’t been any ill intentions and it just happened. “Ultimately, the cover art is your choice.” It was already clear what they wanted and Q was going to get ready for the massive backlash they were going to get from religious groups. “But I will reiterate that if you go with this one, the face will get changed and the parental advisory sticker will go over the demon’s crouch.”

Eve leaned over the table and put her phone where the sticker would be, making James choke on the water he was sipping. “I somehow like it even more like this and I’m sure that I’m not the only one.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and Q was quick to grab the glass away from James’ hands. “On a different note, Alec would you be willing to lend me your drawing skills for a little family-friendly contest somewhere down the line?”

At the end of the day, when all was said and done and all headache pills started to kick in because Q was surrounded by toddlers, he was lucky to be working with someone as talented as these people were. There was no doubt in his mind that the only reason why they weren’t fully ruling the world was because of bad management and yes, they were a handful from time to time but they weren’t impossible and Q was going to do everything in his power to hand them the well-deserved crown.


	9. Personal chef

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind words <3 
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy.

Q didn’t mind that after four months of glancing at his phone’s screen when he thought no one saw him made some people accuse him of having a secret boyfriend. They were all wrong and they needed to mind their business but Q was still full of pride at being officially and publicly recognized as not only a big band’s manager, but also as a good manager. He knew he was a good manager but he wasn’t aware that he wanted that pat on the back until he got it.

_Meet the only man who makes meetings fun. Doesn’t he look delicious when he isn’t dragged out of bed for no other reason than to make his day harder?_ – the post from JamesBond69 said and it never failed to put Q in a good mood.

Silva, seemingly unable to live if he didn’t one-up James, revealed Safin to the world the very next day. His caption was also a not so subtle invitation for James to strike back and James almost did, ranting about how his manager was better than a toddler who Alec could best in a contest with one hand tied behind his back and blindfolded.

Alec expressed the same belief but Q pretended not to take the hint of pitting him against Safin and asked all of them – but James in particular because he was making a face Alec claimed he made whenever he was trying to think of something really bad to post – not to do anything stupid, assuring them that they will get Silva back when they dropped their album.

He also assured them that he couldn’t wait to take another picture with them, but he refused to do that just because Silva posted something. Though in all honesty, if he were just a tiny bit less of a professional manager, he’d jump in James’ arms again and have him take pictures until everyone around them ran out of space on their phones.

The memory of how easy James had lifted him and how normal he had acted while he was in the debatably depowering position – as while it was supposed to convey that he was the one calling the shots, Q still had to trust that he wouldn’t be dropped on purpose – made him smile. He knew that there was more to James than his hollow one-liners and well-defined muscles but it was good that he knew when to show that without anyone telling him.

Of course, then there was how professional James had been while recording the album and filming the almost-R-rated video. He didn’t know why he singled James out in his thoughts since Eve and Alec hadn’t acted in a way that would have made Q want to knock their heads together to see if they rang hollow, but…

“Leaving any lovers behind?” James asked after sneaking up behind him and trying to take a peek at his phone. “You can share the picture with me, Q,” James insisted when Q put his phone back in his pocket. “I go out of my way not to charm people that are already in a relationship.” But if the people in said relationship reached a mutual agreement on their own that it wasn’t going anywhere and that it would be better for one of them to go out with James, well then, that wasn’t his fault.

“Is that you then?” Q asked instead, taking note of the twenty matching luggage pieces that the poor driver was shoving in the baggage hall under the bus. “And can any of us fit anything in there or should I get another bus?”

James leaned over Q, the minty smell of his aftershave washing over him. “Your luggage will fit but not so sure you can sneak your lover in there.” He sneaked an arm around Q’s shoulders before the rant could start and Alec and Eve popped out of seemingly nowhere. “A short video to let everyone know that we’re off on our European tour to promote our new album that already went platinum three times!”

At this point, every video and picture that James took existed only to rub their success in Silva’s nose and Q completely approved only because he discovered that ‘Cyanide Cigarettes’ were just as immature as James and all but one member had a very obvious fake handle that they used to troll ‘Shaken, not Stirred’.

Now normally, Q wouldn’t have approved of this. Fighting fire with fire never got anyone anywhere but technically, he was simply letting the band officially express their joy at what they were accomplishing without screening their posts – provided they didn’t outright name anyone from Silva’s band.

M had said that he was letting himself be influenced by James instead of the other way around but because she didn’t say anything more on that and instead opted to move on to congratulating Eve on her book, Q knew that he had her unofficial blessing to continue to allow them to stick it to SPECTRE as a whole.

Alec slipped in next to him at the kitchen table and poked his side to make sure he had all of Q’s attention, knowing fully well that he was extremely ticklish there. “Joking aside, we can arrange for you to take a plane and meet us directly at our first gig if you need some alone time.”

Q hoped he didn’t pale when Alec said ‘plane’. “Think back to everything I put in motion since we met and tell me if I had time for my personal life.” Alec smiled awkwardly, patting Q’s back. “Right, now that you have something to tell your best friend during math class, why don’t we talk about those new advertisement offers I got for you?”

Alec groaned and grabbed Q’s iPad. “We better talk about what bunk you want because Eve can be loud and your little Rowan is not that innocent anymore.”

It was Q’s turn to groan. He hadn’t thought about how the two would act in a shared space, focusing more on James and his rumoured string of lovers. But he hadn’t had to clean up a single one of James’ romantic messes since he started working with them. “I’ll ask the driver to stop at the first drug store he sees so I can buy some earplugs,” he muttered, deciding not to embarrass both R and himself by having a conversation with her unless there was no way out. “I’ll take whichever bunk is left—”

“Directly above James’ it is then,” Alec chimed in, winking and grabbing the few bags that Q had brought with him on the bus.

Everyone settled down one hour into the trip, Eve reading over R’s shoulder, Alec trying to figure out on his own how he was going to continue to do videos without revealing his face while on the bus, and James making quite a bit of noise in the kitchen while Q did a quick sweep of his inbox to make sure everything was in order.

His definition of ‘quick’ turned out to be two hours since one of the new emails he got was from an MTV representative informing him that ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ had been nominated for ‘Best Song’, ‘Video of the year’ and maybe another one. Now MTV might not have been all that important and Q seemed to catch only shows that had nothing to do with music whenever he landed on it but who sends out an official email that didn’t have all the information?

He was doing his best not to turn into one of those vicious managers that snapped at whoever wronged them but the representative was practically begging for it as the more they emailed back and forth, the less Q knew.

Honestly, the only thing that saved him for a strongly worded email – normal lettering, of course; no matter how upset Q was, he still couldn’t see how some people called themselves professionals after using allcaps – was a plate of freshly made food being nudged in front of him.

“The food is better when it’s still warm,” James said seriously, smiling when Q handed him his tablet and picked up his fork. “I was careful not to use anything that you’re allergic to.”

Q stopped mid-chew, his senses overwhelmed by how good it was. “You cook?” Rudeness be damned, he was too shocked that James Bond did something so well that no one could imagine a rock star doing.

James smiled proudly. “I was the only one who didn’t poison his troop when I was on kitchen duty.” He pushed the freshly baked bread closer to Q, trying to glare at Eve when she went to grab a piece only to flinch when she kicked him under the table – R pinching her arm to stop her from throwing her fork at James. “It makes life on the road go by faster, even if I don’t have access to everything I’d need to make something fit for you. Do you like it?”

Q eagerly nodded, mouth too stuffed with food for him to say anything without spitting on everyone. At this point, his mind also tried to focus on two things: If James could make food taste this good with a high-end bus kitchen, just what culinary wonders would come out of a proper oven and would James be inclined to release a cooking book at a later point in life when it would be accepted by his fandom?

There was another thought in the back of his mind which was also a question. Q didn’t want to focus on it since it was very unprofessional and very unlike him but the annoying thing surfaced when he was presented with dinner by a still wet from the shower James: would he want to share this part of James with more people than he had to?

Never in his life had Q been more disgusted by one of his thoughts and he instantly regretted having it. James was his own person so if he decided that he liked Q’s cookbook idea and wanted to publish it, Q would do it in a heartbeat.

“Do you not like this?” James asked with a little bit more worry than Q was used to hearing in his voice.

“What? No, it smells and looks good,” Q was quick to assure him, tugging the plate closer to him.

Still not convinced, James moved to rest his hand over Q’s, a few droplets of water from his hair finding their way to Q’s face. “If you think something about this is fishy, I’m sure we can find something else to eat. I wouldn’t want you to force yourself and get sick since that wouldn't be fun ride for anyone, especially you.”

Q moved his fork in his other hand and took a bite before James could stop him, barely stopping from rolling his eyes back in pleasure. “I was just thinking about something that wasn’t related to your food. Now please sit down before we hit a speed bump or a pothole and you find yourself face first in this most delicious diner.”

He thought he saw a smile start to spread over James’ lips but he slipped on the bench next to Q too fast to tell, squeezing his hand a little before releasing it moments before the bus dipped and rocked violently, causing James to slide so close to Q that he was practically on his lap.

Alec saved all of the plates, but his shirt and pants were ruined. Eve saved R and they did not seem to mind that the glasses of water spilt over them, probably already planning on using this as the perfect excuse to share a shower in a little bit.

“Can I make a post about how our manager is a genuine oracle while Silva’s sucks?” James’ hit breath brushed against Q’s ear every word he said, sending shivers down his spine. “You know how much our fans love you.”

“James?”

“Yes, Q?” James found a way to move closer, his lips almost on Q’s ear.

“Your knee is in my spleen. Can you move away before you kill me?”


	10. Music is life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be honest, this chapter exists only for the art in it <3

Though Q was never the one to wonder why someone would fight nail and tooth to buy a ticket to a show for a band they loved, watching ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ giving it their all in front of so many crazed fans lost in their own world and on such a large stage with no need to worry that they’d hit someone made Q truly understand the desperation a fan felt at the mere thought of not queueing early enough and missing the experience.

He felt his heart beating only when Eve hit the drums. Sound didn’t exist before Eve created it and she had no problem drowning out the loudest thunder roll.

His blood flowed through his veins to the rhythm set by Alec’s guitar. Drug companies needed to find a way to turn his talent into a pill and no man would ever have troubles performing.

And his mind could only focus on what James sang about, his body even betraying him a couple of times when he was in R’s line of sight so she caught him swaying and maybe even running a hand up his chest before clutching at his shirt at a more intense lyric.

Q knew how lucky he was to have gotten two unique experiences – a hypnotizing private show that made him feel like it was just him and his lover and this energizing live one that made his mind go to very perverted places with James in front of everyone and loving it. The possibility of lording that over the world was also more than appealing and god, he needed to remind the crew to bring water so cold at the rest of the shows that it was outright ice in bottles.

The latter one made him flush and he was horrified at how unprofessional and lewd his thoughts could be. This wasn’t the first band he had managed and James wasn’t the first Adonis that he dealt with and yet this was the first time he was honestly curious about how a pierced tongue felt in his mouth and over his cock.

Ah, but luckily, he didn’t have too much time to spiral down that rabbit hole. The end show fireworks exploded – Alec got to set them off – and the band all came barreling in off the stage straight in Q’s open arms, knocking every worry out of his mind and allowing him to live in the joyful moment.

He didn’t want the hug to ever end, feeding on their joy and feeling like he was close to exploding, but showers had to be taken, water needed to be drank, it was mandatory for R to be dipped back and kissed in the open and someone kept insisting in his headset that his presence was required just outside the venue – demanded, even – so he had no choice but to let go. 

And then all of his good disposition instantly disappeared when he saw why he was needed, going out of his way not to scrunch up his face and groan.


	11. Guitar go SMASH!

Usually, after such an intense show, all James wanted to do was nap for half an hour in his dressing room. He needed to recover some of the spent energy so he wouldn’t disappoint the more giving fans. But all he wanted to do right now was take a quick shower, make sure he didn’t suddenly get a five o’clock shadow that might be considered ticklish or prickly and go right back to hugging Q.

“Sorry, last time I saw him he was hugging you guys. Great show, by the way!” If only he could track Q down or get him to answer his bloody phone. On that note, why the hell did Q own one if he didn’t bother to pick up when it rang? 

Knots formed in James’ stomach when he found himself circling the backstage area for a second time and he had devolved into outright snarling whenever someone walked up to him to tell him that they didn’t see Q.

And then finally, ten minutes after everyone stopped packing the show and R started to think of ways to kill someone though the phone while trying to get the hotel personnel to connect her to Q’s room in the off-chance that he had left without letting anyone know, someone finally got the courage to remember something.

“I might have been the one who called Mister Boothroyd out.” There was a table between him and the nameless crewman that James was tempted to scale over to give him a good shake and ask why the bloody hell he waited so long to speak up. He didn’t and he was going to point that out to Q later for no reason. “The credentials came back okay and—”

“Out where?” James interrupted, sure that the fake smile he was wearing only served to unnerve the crewman even more. “His assistant is close to calling the police, you know.”

“Well, Mister Boothroyd made sure to have a few guys from security close and there are cameras pointed…” The future ex-crewman trailed off and very subtly put even more distance between himself and James. “He’s just outside exit C, the one that leads to the alley.”

By this point, everyone wanted to see Q but R shooed them back to work and reminded them that as soon as they were done, they were all free to enjoy a drink. She also assured them that they would be paid extra for focusing on the side-quest instead of their actual task and made a comment about how she technically didn’t lose her bet with Q over those extra 3 hours he insisted on renting the venue for since they’d have vacated on time had it not been for his little disappearance act.

The relief James had felt was quickly replaced with pure, unadulterated hatred and he swore that his vision became completely red for one second when he walked out the door and found Q trapped against the wall by Le Chiffre.

At a first glance, their position was identical to the one he and Q had been in during their first meeting when he showed off his tongue piercing except a second look revealed that Q was disgusted and done rather than just done. Though maybe – a faint voice chimed in the back of his mind – he saw that because he was the one looking from the outside. What if he chose to ignore the true meaning behind Q’s glare back then?

Le Chiffre leaning closer brought that questioning of his morality to an abrupt end and James stormed back inside because a simple punch wouldn’t do. “Tell him I’ll buy him a new one,” James growled as he grabbed one of Alec’s guitars, expertly dodging the few people that had caught on to what was happening.

He almost pulled the door off its hinges when he stomped outside, holding the guitar like a baseball bat. His swing had to be just right, one that knocked Le Chiffre away from Q, not one that would push his face up against him and then both of them into the wall as though he would have loved to feed Le Chiffre bricks, he didn’t want to hurt Q.

“None of that,” Alec whispered in his ear as he wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him back inside, one particularly strong security man quickly ripping the guitar from his hands. “Think of the scandal.”

“I’d be doing the world a favour!” James insisted, grabbing on to the doorframe in an attempt to pull himself free.

“Think of how angry M is going to be,” Alec shot back, resting one foot against the wall to offer himself a bit more leverage – bloody bastard and his extra 3 centimetres in height.

“She’ll get over it.” Hell, he was willing to bet that after two weeks of shouting, she’ll even be happy.

“Then think of how much work you’ll give Q if you do this.” That low blow got James to instantly go slack in Alec’s arms. “Okay, now we can go tell the prick to fuck off and if he trips on his way out, not our fault and no extra work for anyone other than One-eye’s plastic surgeons.” It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but at least it was something.

They were kinder with the doors this time around which was lucky as Q was just about to come back in, ignoring the flushed Le Chiffre that seemed to be finishing a rant. “— and I want you to keep that in mind about that mutt and think about it!”

Q looked surprised to see them. “James, Alec!” His surprise then turned to worry and he gently rested his hands over their chests. “Please don’t succumb to the level they think you are at and simply walk away. In this case, indifference hurts more than anger or fists.”

Alec was faster than James when it came to putting his thoughts in order. “Be honest: did he do anything to hurt you?” Q snorted, shaking his head. “Well, at least he got to hear actual music while waiting out here with the trash,” Alec added as loudly as he could without outright shouting, smirking smugly over Q’s shoulder before heading back inside with two fans that seemed to pop out of nowhere just so they could cling to his muscly arms and giggle at his lewd comments.

Left alone with Q’s hand on his chest, James thought that this would be the perfect time to pull him into a more intimate hug. It was well known how easy it was for him to make others forget their troubles and get them to destress and judging by Q’s straight shoulders, thin lips, and extra-intense green eyes, his services would be just right.

“James, can you please promise to also back down?” Q asked and just then did James detect how tired he sounded and he rethought everything.

Not once since they met had Q invited him in his personal space. His threats were always made with a serious voice tone and there hadn’t been anything in his body language that hinted that he was just teasing. They never had a proper conversation about the way James behaved towards him but it was clear to him now that there was a high possibility as far as Q was concerned, there was no difference between him and Le Chiffre.

And that was the most sobering thought he’d ever had and he recoiled in disgust. “Yeah, sure, I’ll back down. We’ve had an excellent show and you say you’re fine, so I won’t ruin the night.” He felt very cold when Q finally removed the hand from his chest. “R said something about a lost bet so I can’t help but ask if maybe you’d be interested in poker?”

“Not in the least and especially not the stripping kind.” Hard glare in place and directed at him, silent warning about how he’d make him sing Kids Pop if he pulled the entire crew into such a game received loud and clear. As if James wanted to see anyone naked other than Q or to let anyone see Q naked. “I’ll head back to the hotel but keep in mind that our checkout time is tomorrow at 1 PM so don’t overdo the celebration. And no special fans on the bus, no matter how much they love you.”

Fun times sounded like the perfect thing he needed to get his mind off of his recent realization but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like anything at this point. “Actually, I’ll return to the hotel with you.” Q arched his right eyebrow and looked concerned. “I’m a bit too tired to enjoy the rock star life tonight.”

“Your old age finally caught up to you?” Q asked, chuckling.

James didn’t have to pretend that he was offended. “You can’t really get in the party mood with lukewarm flat beer.”

Q stopped suddenly and grabbed a new bottle of beer from the nearest cooler and smoothly opened it with the use of a table before taking a swing of it. “Hmm, this one tastes just fine to me.”

Really, it was a miracle that James heard what Q said and that he managed to have a comeback for it. “You’re much too young to know what a proper beer is supposed to taste like. Now give that here before you get drunk.” God knew he needed alcohol.


	12. Twister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stubbornly refused to post until I was done adding two chapters in between what I already wrote, sorry.
> 
> No art this round, but I hope you'll still enjoy~

Q believed that it generally took at least three years of constant contact outside of the work environment to truly get to know someone. And yet, when it came to James Bond, he knew without a doubt after just a little over half a year that he wasn’t acting like himself.

His clothes were still too tight not to be pained on, his jokes were still just innuendos, and he still grinned and smiled in a way that made Q think of an anthropomorphized Golden Retriever allowed to run free in a park but compared to how he was when they first met, it was obvious that James was restrained.

Though not when it came to his shows. In fact, James grew more energetic and more sensual on stage to the point that Q got a call in the middle of a show from the Mayor of… Huh, he forgot the name of that respective city, but he was threatened by a politician while the band was live that if James did not tone it down, they would immediately be escorted outside the city limits, finned for indecent exposure, and banned for life.

Q waited for the song to end, ordered for the lights and microphones to be killed, ran on stage to yell at James to knock it off and not dare lose any more of his clothes – which were at this point just leather briefs, meaning the bastard had planned this from the start – and then prayed to whatever deity existed that on one would call him about the sudden erection James was sprouting.

He banged his head against the nearest wall when James continued to taunt the gods by calling attention to his current state but the show ended without any more threatening calls so he marked the whole situation as no harm, no foul done.

“Are you sleepwalking or just excited by tomorrow’s flight?” It was amazing how silent James could be when he wanted to, possibly a remnant of his days as a soldier.

Thankful that he was with his back to James, Q allowed himself to fall in utter despair for a moment. The one thing he hated with a burning passion was aeroplanes. For something that was supposed to be the safest mode of transportation in the world, he’d been on two faulty flying coffins in less than a year when he’d been ten.

“Just thirsty,” Q whispered, schooling his features to indifference as he closed the refrigerator door before turning to face James. You’d think that after seeing the man mostly naked for the better part of a year, Q wouldn’t have to force himself not to stare but you’d be wrong. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

James moved to lean over Q but stopped suddenly and broke eye contact. “Thirst is also what got me out of bed so do you mind stepping to the side?”

No, now that he thought about it some more, James wasn’t restrained. He was cold towards him and that made his insides go numb. “Sorry, this bus is the biggest I’ve ever seen but still a little tight when it comes to the kitchen area.” He ended up hovering near James as he downed an entire bottle of water, shocked that he couldn’t find the right way to approach the subject while pretending to check something on his phone.

“Well, good night,” James said after he was done, taking out another bottle of water from the fridge and giving it to Q. “So you don’t have to crawl out of the bunk if you get thirsty again.”

Q sat there for five more minutes before he finally remembered how to get his legs to work and crawled back to his bed where sleep refused to grace him with its presence until the sun slowly started to rise. He knew he wouldn’t get that much sleep but that was more than fine with him. He’d be too tired to truly panic on the aeroplane, especially since they were supposed to fly through some really bad weather according to the email M sent him and he wasn’t sure it would be in his best interest at this point for the band – James especially – to become aware of his almost-phobia.

He had been the one who set everything up and he knew that the flight was coming as that was the fastest way to get to the main continent and also allow everyone time to breathe and relax between shows so they wouldn’t burn out but now he regretted his kindness and professionalism, as was tradition.

About the fifth time he changed positions, he remembered R asking him why he didn’t just take the bus while the band flew and he groaned, wishing that he could smother himself for his stupidity. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this oversight and really, when was he going to learn that he had that option so early in a European tour?

The nth time he’d turned in an attempt to find the one cool spot, he came face to face with an apologetic R. “Thought you’d want enough time for the pills to take effect; I also went ahead and made you some tea and started up the heating for the water in the shower.”

R always did more than she was supposed to as an assistant or as a friend. She acted more like his loving older sister and that was one of the many reasons why Q was going to give Eve ‘the talk’. The woman might have been half a head taller than him and she had enough power in her arms to break him in half with just with her pinkies, but it was still his duty to make it clear that if she were to hurt R in any way, he wasn’t going to stand for it.

Aware that his mood had found a way to decrease even more due to just the thought of a sad R, Q jumped out of bed and made a beeline for his mug of hot tea to take the pill, becoming aware of someone’s intense gaze on him half-way through his first sip. “What are you looking at?” He growled at the amused Alec who was lounging on the sofa like the big cat he was.

“A living bird’s nest,” Alec said, pointing at Q’s hair. “How many eggs are you hiding in there and will you be allowed to bring them on board?” Q’s heart plunged in his stomach once again and much to his horror, it must have shown on his face because a serious Alec was suddenly guiding him to the sitting area. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t look so good. Do you want to postpone the—”

“I’ll be fine by the time the plane takes off,” Q rushed to assure Alec, flashing him a forced smile that was meant to also be reassuring only to find himself convinced into properly lying on the sofa while Eve brought up a medicine box. “I just had a rough night so there’s really no need for any fussing.”

He made to get up despite the disapproving looks he was getting but he stopped when someone – James – draped a blanket over him. “I heard you tossing and turning the entire night so try to sleep some more.”


	13. Competence boner discovered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil bit of fluff for our two dorks <3
> 
> All the love and praise for aliensdoodless' art!

It killed James not to know what Le Chiffre and Q talked about but it had been suggested to him that unless he thought Q was selling them out or he felt like he couldn’t continue working with him without knowing that, it would be for the best if he waited for him to approach the subject.

Then there was the problem that, a few hours after seeing Q crowded against the wall by Le Chiffre, he couldn’t tell any difference between that and when he had done something similar which meant that he was no better than that crappy string pincher. Whenever he started to wonder if he was just as scummy as Silva, he got sick to his stomach.

The answer to his newest dilemma was an easy one: stop acting like that. Stop giving Q a reason to look so done with him. Stop intruding on his personal space unless he was invited but after so many years in which people invaded his personal space that he virtually didn’t have to do anything to get them, he kind of forgot to consider the existence of one when making his move.

But he knew it wasn’t right if his behaviour wasn’t wanted so he decided to go ‘cold turkey’ with Q, even if sometimes he was half-way through his usual moves. He was lewd, but he didn’t wink at Q. He hinted at his special tattoos and ran his hands down his legs over where they were, but he didn’t take his pants off to make sure that Q hadn’t forgotten them. He saw and recognized the perfect openings to lean on Q, but he didn’t take them because he would invade Q’s personal space.

He couldn’t stop his dreams but he didn’t share them with Q either so he supposed that was okay. He also couldn’t stop his body from reacting to Q when he was awake which amused Eve to no end.

“That tent you’re sporting tells me that you had Q’s full attention once again,” she teased him in the middle of the show which James had turned into a striptease one just because he could and the weather was too hot for him to be wearing so many clothes. “I don’t remember shouting being one of your kinks, or is it only when Q is the one doing it?”

“Just focus on your drums and let me be,” James growled.

He wasn’t embarrassed by that at all. He couldn’t be who he was if he had any sense of shame instilled in him by other people or by society and its rules. Yet, it still bothered him that he had upset Q without meaning to. The crowd always went wild when his clothes started disappearing after lascivious moves which meant more likes on their social accounts, more views on the live versions of the songs Q started to post, more interest in them in general. How was he supposed to know that they landed in prude central? It’s not like they were in the USA just yet.

After that, he made sure to keep his pants on during his performances, no matter how tight they got – when Eve suggested he start wearing looser pants, he made sure to tell her where her drumsticks could go if she didn’t keep her unwanted advice to herself. A second later, Q was reminding her not to throw things at people, especially in moving vehicles, while running those soft, thin hands down his chest.

For once, Alec left the teasing to Eve and instead tried to be helpful by suggesting that James drop by his temporary lovers in the various cities that they’d visit. James shot that idea down faster than Q could frown in that adorable way of his that also made him scrunch up his nose like he always did when he was more confused than upset about something.

How he wished that he could tell Q that he knew the difference and about the many other things that he had observed without wanting to without sounding like someone who needed to be served with a restraining order.

Like how Q was always too sleepy in the morning to realize that he was counting how many sugar cubes he was putting in his tea, or that he hummed when he was taking his shower – everyone in the bus could hear him but no one said a thing because he came out relaxed and in a good mood – a rare thing for anyone when it came to mornings, but especially when it came to someone who managed them. When he was very tired, he wrapped his hair around his fingers and he always clapped his hands softly in joy whenever he saw James cooked. He never did that in restaurants or hotels so James took it as the highest of praises imaginable.

Q also tended to be out like a light the second his head touched his pillow, James or Alec sometimes needing to help him get fully in his bunk and after that, he slept like a log until his vibrating alarm went off or his phone rang before that could happen.

So of course when Q was unlucky in his attempts to fall asleep James heard him. He heard him sigh and groan and curse himself before turning for the nth time and he heard R coming to rouse him so his pills could take effect before they were in the air.

Again, dumb he was not. The timing, R’s words, and the horrible results of Alec’s very light teasing made him more than suspicious of the fact that Q was afraid of flying. And again, he didn’t poke or probe as that was Q’s secret to share but he put his foot down when Q isolated himself in the back of their private plane, whiter than any wall in existence, ears covered by his headphones that were connected to a turned-off laptop, and armrests clutched tightly. R was next to him, muttering something under her breath, but she was very obviously failing in calming him down.

“Sir, we’re about to take off so could you please sit back down and buckle up?” The overly-perky stewardess with platinum blond hair and perfect French manicure asked, her sweet perfume revealing that she was next to him before speaking up.

James flashed her one of his usual charming smiles, pausing in his movement. “I am a little bit indisposed today so would it be terribly bad if I go sit in the back?”

“But, sir, we’re about to take off,” the woman insisted, although she didn’t sound as sure as before.

“I’ll be fast and I’ll even let you buckle me up.” He winked and brushed his lips against the back of her hands, making her giggle as she shyly nodded. “You are the kindest soul I know.”

Q was startled to see James coming towards him and some of the colour returned to him, no doubt a result of him switching back to his professional persona. “Is everything okay?” He reverted to looking sickly plate as his mind instantly went to a dark place. “Is there something wrong with the engines?”

James ignored the glare R sent his way and crouched down next to Q, leaning close so his whispering could be heard over the roaring of the engines. “Nothing’s wrong with the plane or me but I’d feel better if I were sitting back here, with you.”

Q exchanged looks with R for a moment before R reluctantly moved to the chair across the aisle. “Something not agreeing with your stomach?” Q asked quietly, not looking at James, his breath hitching whenever the aeroplane’s engines noises changed.

James made sure to properly buckle up before answering because he could feel the charmed stewardess making her way over to him, also making sure to grab one of Q’s hands. “Let’s say the plane doesn’t agree with me,” James whispered back.

Now James didn’t have any problems with flying, even borrowing an aeroplane back when he was a soldier – even though he was a marine at that time but it involved an evil plot which required him to fly, so it wasn’t like he had done that just for the sake of doing it – but he also wasn’t lying. He had a problem with this aeroplane because Q was uncomfortable and scared and the only real way James knew how to distract him from it wasn’t exactly applicable to someone who wasn’t interested.

“I’m also not a fan of it,” Q admitted weakly, gasping when the plane started to gain speed as it finally reached its take-off lane. “There’s something about the colour…”

“Oh yeah,” James rushed to agree, squeezing Q’s hand to get him to look back at him. “It makes me think that I’m some kind of drug lord from the 70s and that kind of a moustache is impossible for me to pull off. It would make me look like I have some giant, fluffy caterpillar on my upper lip.” Because that got a chuckle of out Q – and because he stopped looking so much like a ghost – James continued to share his comedic reimaging of everyone as a 70s gangster part of his gang.

He started talking faster and held on tighter to Q’s hands when the plane took off, probably giving off the impression that he was the one scared. He didn’t mind it at all. Q’s full attention was on him for the next thirty minutes until whatever pill he had taken finally took effect and he passed out, using his shoulder as a pillow. The stewardess was kind enough to bring him a blanket for Q – R was right behind her with an NDA which probably made things look even more like what they weren’t.

Alec made sure to take a few pictures of them, just in case James didn’t believe him that he had a stupidly soft smile on him or that he refused to move from the position he was in just in case he’d wake Q up. Q’s hair also made it so that it looked like he had cat ears and while James was more of a dog person, he didn’t mind this giant cat in his lap at all.

Q did frown and started to move a little when they hit the promised turbulences and James decided to mask the aeroplane violently shaking by putting on a comedy and apologizing between gasps of fake laughter when he found himself under Q’s confused inquisitive stare.

His heart grew heavy when the plane finally landed and he had no choice but to wake Q up, pretending not to notice how red the tips of his ears had turned when he noticed how close they were and how tightly he was holding on to James’ arm.

“Most enjoyable flight I ever had,” James said, helping Q up.

Q chuckled, trying his best to get all the wrinkles out of his clothes. “Not according to the large number of companies that have you on their banned list. How is Alec subtler than you when—” He stopped suddenly, actually covering his mouth for a moment before putting a proper distance between them. “I do apologize for that. Let’s pretend I did not let my mouth run off before my brain woke up and get about our day.”

James grabbed Q’s hand before he could sprint away. “I wasn’t lying and hey, as a bonus, M doesn’t have to have a special emergency meeting with you about this like she had to have with almost all of my previous managers.”

Q frowned, worrying his lower lip. “Can you get banned from your own aeroplane?”

“Not quite,” Alec cut in, managing to squeeze in between the two of them, arms around their necks. “But you can get forced to fly around with a literal nanny that will spray you with water every time they think you are out of line. Did James tell you about that one time he—”

“I will make you eat your guitar if you don’t stop talking this instant,” James hissed, glaring at Alec until he very slowly detached himself from their shoulders and put some distance between them. James threw one final glare before turning his attention back to Q who was so out of it that he didn’t seem aware of what had just happened. “I saw our itinerary for today and are you sure you wouldn’t prefer going to the hotel directly?”

Q snorted, lightly patting James on his chest. “Oh, that’s exactly where I’m going. I made today’s list in such a way that it wouldn’t affect anyone if it was skipped just in case there were _issues_ with the flight and I also booked two cars so no one would have to wait around.”

It was at that point that James realized he had managed to develop what some might call ‘a competence boner’ and if he wasn’t going to end up with at least one severe heart problem because of Q simply existing around him, it will be a miracle.


	14. Save a horse, ride a rock star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just passed the half-way point of the story, yaaay! Well, at least chapter-wise.
> 
> More beautiful art by our talented artist hated by tumblr, aliensdoodless <3

No matter how many fancy hotels Q ended up in due to his job, he would always be taken aback by how big and _elaborate_ the rooms he checked in were. This time, the immaculate dressed French bellboy guided Q to the ‘Sun King’ room, apologizing for the hotel being forced to give him the smallest room on the floor.

The supposed small room had a living room, a walk-in closet, a kitchen, a bathroom with a huge marble bathtub in the middle of it, a steam shower to the left, and a large bedroom that was connected to an equally large balcony so there was no need for the apology. The other rooms probably had a bar and a hot tub or a small pool but Q had no need for those since he couldn’t swim and he didn’t need to _entertain_ special fans – or R.

Not that it mattered. All Q needed for this first day was a simple bed and complete darkness – God bless the thick, dark blue velvet curtains that framed the large windows with the breath-taking view. Maybe James needed the same but if Q’s room was the lesser one, he didn’t bother worrying or calling reception to make sure. As for the other four days that they were going to be there due to the MTV Awards, Q would have been fine with being stuffed in a janitor’s closet and given nothing more than a flimsy blanket and a clean towel for a pillow.

But just because he could be satisfied with that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to take full advantage of the high-quality Merino wool fabric that was woven with small amounts of gold and silk jacquard that made up the sheets his temporary bed was covered in. And such expensive bed sheets couldn’t be insulted by his cheap pyjamas. But as luck would have it, the moment he kicked his underwear to the far side of the room, someone knocked at the door.

“Just a moment,” Q said with a sigh, grumpily wrapping the silk robe provided by the hotel around himself before answering the door and getting a shock that he shouldn’t have gotten anymore. “James. Is everything okay? I confirmed the reservations for the restaurant myself just before we got to the—”

“I’m sure there aren’t any problems with the restaurant but I decided to spend my day in a place that wasn’t on wheels,” James interrupted him, licking his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just the start of a lazy day.” James shifted his weight from one foot to another, obviously uncomfortable. “Care to join?” Q asked, tugging on his robe to better cover his chest before stepping to the side to make room for James and then quickly making his way back to the bedroom to get his pyjama pants back on.

He came back into the living area to find James snooping around just as room service was leaving after setting up various treats, tea, and chilled wine on the table and Q cleared his throat to get his attention and spare him the awkwardness stemming from having to apologize. The way James looked at him reminded him of a kicked puppy and Q made a mental note to check and see if he would be interested in acting before rolling his eyes and waving his hand dismissively towards his bag.

He had nothing to hide and he constantly dug around James’ bag so he supposed everything was fine – including the interrogatory that followed every item James found in there.

The vitamins were because he had recently recovered for anaemia and James shouldn’t bother to ask if he’s eating okay since he was his cook at this point. He didn’t want to talk about the beaten up sappy romance book and he would be most grateful if James put it back where he found it – James did but not before taking one final look at the cover so he could remember the title and have someone that wasn’t Q buy it for him.

James was respectful enough to not fiddle with Q’s personal phone, work phone, backup work phone and tablet. By this point, they had moved in the bedroom because no matter how expensive a sofa was, everything still hurt if it was uncomfortable so Q sat back in his bed and watched as James was being extra careful when he came in contact with Q’s backup pair of glasses even if they were in a case.

He also watched as James helped himself to a piece of gum – which he instantly regretted because Q had had it in this bag for at least six months and he did not remember buying gum at all in the past two years. And just below that old pack of gum, James managed to find something downright ancient that instantly made Q’s face instantly turn red.

Surprisingly enough, James instantly dropped the embarrassing thing and stepped away from the bag without Q asking him. “You are more than welcomed to dig through every corner and every safe in my house as soon as we get back,” James offered.

Q rolled his eyes as he poured himself some more of the exquisite chamomile tea room service brought up. “I’m fine not knowing _all_ that there is about the many subgenres of porn.”

“Who keeps porn in a safe and why hasn’t the police raided their house yet?” James shot back, getting more comfortable in Q’s bed. “Better yet, what do _you_ keep in your safe? I’ll share one of my secrets.”

The way James slipped that question in was seamless. But because Q had nothing to hide, he cut right to the chase. “Le Chiffre came to that show to try to poach me, not because I secretly work with SPECTRE.” James’ face started to change colours. “Don’t worry, he failed miserably. And it wasn’t only because he was a total creep whose eyes would have melted from all the times he would have been pepper-sprayed had he not been part of a successful band but also because I don’t do corporate espionage.”

James was eerily still and the look he had in his eyes was downright _murderous_. “Try to poach _my_ agent while also making him uncomfortable and also leading him to believe that I’d suspect him of being like the others?” James finally seethed out, phone already in hand and fingers moving so fast on it that Q was sure he was halfway done with his fourth long angry rant. Q made to grab the phone away from him but James moved just in time so Q ended up on his lap. “No, Q, you cannot seriously ask me or expect me to let this slide.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Q insisted, straddling James and not missing the opportunity of James suddenly freezing to finally take his phone away. “Honestly, it will hurt them more if we take another picture together than if you attack them online. Have you learned nothing from all our time together?”

“I learned you’re so busy that you forget what you have in your shoulder bag unless it’s work-related,” James whispered and only then did Q become aware of his hand resting softly on his lower back. “The owner of SPECTRE is my step-brother.”

Their compromising position hadn’t gone unmissed by Q and while he was at a loss for words why he was ignoring the very offended voice in the back of his mind that was yelling about how unprofessional everything was, he hadn’t expected James to say something as random as that. He frankly didn’t know what he thought James would say – or rather, what he wanted James to say – or if he’d turn away from the kiss and remind James their social positions but… He blamed everything on how fuzzy his brain was due to the anxiety pills he had downed before getting on the plane.

“What?” Q blurted out, frowning and trying to be as casual as he could while rolling off of him.

James hummed, running his hand down on his octopus tattoo. “I said I’d share one of my secrets so, yeah, Blofeld is my stepbrother. We had a huge falling out over things that involve more people so I won’t go on about that but long story short, M took me in and gave me a second chance.” He looked haunted for a moment and Q wanted to gather him in his arms and hug the emptiness away. “I don’t regret the tattoo.”

“You shouldn’t,” Q agreed, sliding off the bed and going to his bag. He didn’t consider what had happened with Le Chiffre to be a secret – though he also didn’t know why he didn’t just tell James directly what had happened after the man had vacated the premises – so he was willing to share something with him. “It’s incredibly hard for me because I don’t _hear_ the musical notes when they are on the paper and I have to learn every part of a song, but I play the violin.” He showed James the strange thing that had made him blush earlier and continued to explain. “This is rosin. Without this, the sound would be barely audible.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the left like he was resting against a violin and moved his hands like he was playing one.

“Do you want me to help you with the music sheets?” James was very close, his warm breath that smelled like expensive wine caressing Q’s cheek. “And will you play for me?”

His phone started to ring before he could say anything. He quickly jumped to answer it, recognizing the personalized tone but stopped out of respect. “Sorry, James, but I need to get this,” he said with probably a bit more excitement in his voice than he wanted to show before running to the bathroom.

When he came out half an hour later, James was gone and a tray filled with small, colourful cakes was left on his nightstand.


	15. Put.the.bloody.suit.on

Had James known that Q’s current lazy day was the only such day in the following two months he would have left him to his own devices. Though thankful for the interruption on that night since it was obvious that Q was out of it due to pills while he had gotten slightly dizzy due to the very fine wine the hotel had delivered them, he had presented himself in front of Q’s room at 7 AM sharp the very next day to clear things up.

Only Q was no longer in the room and when he went to ask R what had happened – afraid that he had made Q quit overnight as that was one of his superpowers – he bumped into a half-asleep and very grumpy Eve who told him that both of their ‘beaus’ had been forced to get up at 5 that morning due to business.

James crossed paths with Q later that day at the concert, but he was too tired and still too busy making sure everything was perfect for the next day’s award show that James decided it was for the best not to bog him down even more.

The MTV awards also weren’t the place to have this type of conversation by default since it was supposed to be a night of enjoyment but even if that wasn’t the case, he would still find himself hard-pressed to remember exactly what he wanted to talk with Q given their current _position_.

For this award, James had opted to dress in his usual way. Yes, it was a red carpet event but it was MTV and – ignoring the fact that they were currently in their ‘disgrace’ period – no one really did _suits_ for them. Especially not members of rock bands. But not according to Q!

“Just put the bloody thing on already,” he growled after the 10th penguin joke James made and threw the tux at his head. “Alec is already dressed—”

“And looking fine if I do say so myself,” Alec jumped in, slowly turning around to show off just how well the horrid thing hugged his body and how well he looked.

“Traitor,” James grumbled, glaring at the plastic bag that separated him from what had to be the most boring combination of cloths in the world.

“—Eve is also dressed in hers—” Q tried to soldier on only to be interrupted yet again.

“How is it that she isn’t tortured by a bloody dress that’s supposed to go with this horrid thing?” James demanded, using the suit as a shield against Eve’s usual weapons.

“She didn’t want the dress so put the suit on,” Q hissed between clenched teeth, looking unnatural and almost scary when he tried to smile and look unbothered because some of the venue workers started to take notice of their little unplanned meeting.

With a sigh, James stomped into the bathroom and started changing. Fine, he’ll put the stupid thing on but he would wear it the way he wanted not the way it was expected of him. He was, after all, the great rock star James Bond and hell would freeze over before—

“Over my dead body will you walk in front of cameras dressed like that,” Q said the second James stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt unbuttoned and half tucked in his trousers, zipper not pulled up all the way to show a hint of his bright blue pants, and the tie tied around his head instead of his neck. “Are you trying to look like a five-year-old or like a high school whelp that got drunk at the prom?”

James rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “This is how someone like me is supposed to wear a suit.”

Q was pushing him back inside the bathroom even before James was done being immature, first removing the tie from his head before dropping to his knees and starting to work on his trousers and shirt. Now, this right here was when James got the impression that it would be a good time to bring up their comfort zone, even though he very obviously loved this kind of attention from Q.

So this is where he was struggling to think. Objectively, now was the perfect time to approach the subject and see where Q drew the line or if there was even a line but the blood flow to his brain was cut off so the wrong words came out of his mouth. “If you wanted in my pant, all you had to do was ask,” he said teasingly, leaning back even more to give Q better access.

Q was his usual not amused self – more so than usual probably because they were pressed for time – but his face was an unusual shade of pink. “Keep talking and I’ll end you,” he promised and James held his breath, hoping that he wouldn’t accidentally poke Q in the face with _something_.

Things didn’t get any better for him when Q gently tugged him forward by the tip of his ears when he moved on to tying his tie. His warm breath that smelled like a mix between mint and black tea – hinting that Q had skipped eating a few important meals – tickled his nose and James kept looking at his inviting lips while biting his, wondering how soft they were and how he once again found himself in a position where a half-lean forward would end in him kissing Q.

The spell was broken when Q stepped back and shifted his attention to his phone, obviously annoyed and anxious. “Done and not a moment too soon because we need to get moving _now_ unless we want to cause _everyone_ to be late.”

It took a minute for James to remember that he was not happy with what he was supposed to wear so he half-walked/half-stomped to the limo. Q allowed him to act like a sullen child for a bit before explaining why he wanted them dressed like that – _no one bothered to be chic fancy for MTV so they’d talk about it for weeks._

“Bloody brilliant,” James breathed out, making Q’s face turn red again and straighten his back like he was very proud that his genius was recognized.

So this should have been the end of his worries despite no actual conversation taking place, right? No, of course not. Q had been in ‘manager’ mode earlier but it was worth to note that he didn’t seem bothered to be seated next to James and he didn’t hesitate for a single moment when James offered his arm as an invitation to join them on stage when they accepted the ‘Artist of the year’ award.

Q also encouraged James to stop thinking about whatever it was that made him frown so deeply in between camera pans over the crowd after he was assured that it was nothing too serious. And of course, James was quick to bend to Q’s will, especially after giving him such a hard time for such a frivolous thing.

The night only got better from that point onward, culminating during the after-party when they caught sight of an award-less Silva who looked like he had been forced to attend – and knowing his dog of a step-brother, that was the case. Blofeld believed that shaming and belittling someone was the only way to get results so James mentally told Silva to count his lucky stars that he wasn’t forced to wear a shirt that had the word ‘loser’ printed on it in bright, golden letters that somehow glowed in the dark.

Verbally, he communicated his lack of shock at him being unable to win even something as low on the award scale as an MTV music award which _almost_ caused Silva to rush him. Almost but not quite and in a moment that had to be the most mature one of his life, Silva simply turned around and walked out.

Their last night in France was another no-go on the serious talk. Inspiration had struck Alec overnight thanks to some of his YouTube fans gifting him with some well-done fan art so Q was now fully focusing on the coming up with the perfect concept. To Q’s more than well-deserved credit, it took him exactly two of their concerts to have a plan and then one very dusty faxing machine to put everything in motion.

Not that Q wasn’t talking to any of them. He made sure to praise all of them and also thank them for their hard work at the end, during, and at the start of every show, ate with them and made small talk, laughed at whatever video Eve showed him before returning the favour, spent a little bit of his incredibly short free time playing games with Alec on whatever console the bus came equipped with, and helped James as much as he could in the kitchen.

And after all his extra duties were finally done – for the time being – Q still got up before everyone, sat down in the kitchen area, and stared at his laptop’s ‘Welcome’ screen. James thought that he had finally cracked when he found him there like that.

“I’m fine,” Q whispered without being prompted and without looking at him. “I’m just trying to remember what I do when I don’t have anything to do.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do anything,” James offered as he slid in next to Q with a plate of cheese and meat. “Except maybe sleep some more since I feel like I could buy half a mall and pack everything in those bags under your eyes.”

That got Q to look at him, though the usual glare he had when James poked fun at him was missing. “Sleeping does sound good. I did wake up at this hour out of habit and it’s kind of hard keeping my eyes open.”

James very subtly closed Q’s laptop and helped him stand up. “So why don’t you?”

“I’ll be instantly awake the second I crawl back in there,” Q grumbled before yawning so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. “If you want me to get any sleep, take me back to the table and leave me there.”

“Or I can lower you on this very comfy and roomy sofa and you close your eyes and give it a try.” By the time he was done making his offer, Q was already bundled up on the sofa and his glasses were placed on the tallest shelf. “And hey, if you still can’t sleep, I’ll carry you back in the kitchen and find a way to make the bench even more uncomfortable.”

Thinking that Q had fallen asleep, James made to go back in the kitchen but he was stopped – and a little bit spooked – when Q’s hand shot out from under the blankets and grabbed onto his arm. “If I still can’t fall asleep, will you help me with the music sheets?” The request was _shy_ , something that he would never think he’d associate with Q.

“Sure,” James said after the moment he needed to be sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep, happily deciding to lie down next to Q when it was becoming obvious that his arm wasn’t going to get freed any time soon. “But I’m selfish, so only if you play for me after that.”

“You, Mister Bond,” Q started, lightly tapping James’ nose with his eyes closed, “have got yourself a deal.”

The Lord was testing James and may his soul be forgiven, but he couldn’t let such an opportunity pass him by. “I’ll give you a spanking every time you get one—CHRIST, please don’t pinch my nipple off!” He scooted back as much as he could without falling off, more worried about Q picking up on the _something_ that would soon poke him in the stomach if he didn’t stop touching him – he would never tell Eve or Alec about the latest thing that got him turned on because he didn’t want S&M-themed gifts and surprise parties for the rest of his life.

“Try to become a porn actor again and I can’t promise anything.” Q flicked James’ nipple – James bit his lower lip to bite back a moan – before patting his chest and getting more comfortable by resting the top of his head against James’ chest. “Now that we got that out of the way, why don’t we talk about what’s been bothering you ever since that first night in France?”

“I wouldn’t say exactly that it’s bothering me.” It bothered him that he couldn’t run his finger through Q’s hair. It bothered him that he couldn’t throw his leg over Q’s. It bothered him that he couldn’t get under the blankets with Q and cover his tired faces in kisses. This conversation that they were apparently going to have even though Q was a moment away from dreamland _irked_ him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable on that first night in France.”

Q frowned and tilted his head back a little like he wanted to get a good look at James, but his eyes remained closed. “I know I was out of it a little, but when did you make me feel that? If anything, I should apologize for being so unprofessional that I actually climbed on top—”

“We’re friends, right?” James interrupted, feeling like everything in his body was shutting down for the second it took Q to nod. There was also a huge weight suddenly lifted off his shoulders and he finally allowed himself to bask in Q’s warmth. “Well then, we can both agree that no one was made uncomfortable and no one was unprofessional and leave it at that.”

Asleep more than awake by this point, Q only managed to give a weak hum before burrowing deeper under the covers, finally allowing himself to fully relax and continue to get his much-needed sleep. James’ eyelids started to feel heavy and even though his sleep was more of a nap because he had woken up feeling fully rested and refreshed, it was nice knowing that they were each other’s sleeping aids.

Eve was the first to wake up after them and James was instantly snapped out of his light nap to shush the noisy woman, signalling with his chin that Q was sleeping. He did not like the grin she had on nor was he happy with the flash picture she took but his only option then would have been to risk waking Q up by lunging at Eve and tackling her to the ground.

Next up was R and the woman glared at him for five full minutes, like she was hoping his head would explode due to the sheer hatred that she was sending his way. He didn’t need to check his personal phone and see all the messages he got from _recreational_ friends to know why she was giving him the stink-eye. But still, it wasn’t like he was doing anything unseemly to Q so she could have toned down the Hell Fire in her eyes.

Last was Alec, the man literally rolling out of his bunk when the bus was forced to take a very sharp turn, hissing when his eyes landed on the large window through which the sun’s bright rays sneaked in. He hated sunny days the most even when he wasn’t hungover. James _thought_ he heard their main doctor – Doctor Sterling, a man close to Alec in age with ridiculous good dark hair and no sign of a receding hairline – saying that he was photosensitive but Alec scoffed at that and called him ridiculous. He liked the camera’s flash, fires, and bright fireworks – Doctor Sterling might have said that all of those were to blame for his photosensitivity but James remembered checking out due to a hot nurse – so how could he be photosensitive?

R was quick to look up from her laptop to shush Alec only to be ignored as Alec decided to give everyone within earshot a quick lesson in Russian curses. James tried to find a way to cover Q’s ears without touching him or moving him while R shushed Alec louder but Eve was already over him, covering his mouth and snarling at him to keep it down because Q was sleeping.

“It’s okay, I’m not sleeping," Q intervened in a very groggy voice that indicated the opposite of what he was saying, eyes still shut. “I remembered that I have an email I need to send about our stay in France,” James turned to look at R who quickly shook her head, “so if someone could be kind enough to give me my laptop?”

Thinking quickly – a rarity, as Eve pointed out – James put his arm over Q’s chest. “There you go, my workaholic manager.” The second Q started to weakly drum his slender fingers over his arm, James was covered in goosebumps from head to toe and they stayed with him after Q went back to sleep because he was clinging to his arm. If anyone woke Q now, he would kill them and he carefully turned to glare at Alec so he’d understand that.

Making a little ‘o’ with his mouth, Alec started to nod and gave James a thumbs up before also taking a picture of him and Q and fucking off somewhere to the back of the bus with a video camera. R looked worried like she thought he had some fireworks hidden there that he would set up just to spite James – and if Q wasn’t involved, he probably would have magically produced some and done just that – but relaxed when Alec started to pluck on his guitar strings a soft, lullaby-like song.

It was sweet of him to pick something like that for his latest YouTube tutorial and James was sure that the internet would be flooded with it for at least half a year but little did he know that that was the start of another hectic day for Q.

Alec couldn’t have chosen a worse moment for doing his 3 millionth subscriber live video if he tried, although he had to be praised for following the strict self-imposed schedule. But the roads didn’t care about that – they were, after all, roads and roads can’t do anything other than be roads – and they continued to be bumpy and full of sharp turns that made everything in the bus shift no matter how slow they were going.

This didn’t bother James who was constantly either pushed up against the sound asleep Q or got Q to be pushed up against him. Eve and R were also uncaring about the whole swaying, Eve holding onto her cup and R’s laptop as they prattled on about whatever it was they talked about in low whispers. Alec, however, was thinking that he might be getting seasick while trying to find a way to keep his laptop still for his live.

His fans loved him even more for the fact that their mysterious teacher could play though whatever was happening – some said that it was a storm at sea, others that he was playing through a very long earthquake – and were downright disappointed when Alec excused himself for a moment to bring something that would keep his laptop in place. Only, Alec didn’t pause the feed and didn’t bother closing the door after him so, during a sudden lurch forward down a long and steep hill, the laptop slid in the part of the bus with the sleeping pair.

They still couldn’t be seen since the laptop was on the ground but because the night-shift driver almost stepped on it on his way to the bathroom and continued to be his well-meaning self, he picked it up and set it on one of the little shelves opposite the sofa that had mechanisms made to keep foreign things from moving around when the roads got a little rougher thus revealing to the world who was teaching it how to play the guitar and that James and Q liked to cuddle together.

As was in his nature, Alec did not notice that he walked right past his laptop, guitar on his back and spent a few minutes looking all over the bus for the ‘bloody thing’ while the world collectively lost its mind. It was Eve who pointed out where his laptop was, tipped by the Livestream from R’s phone that M had linked.

“Just say that we’ll come out with an official statement soon and stop the cast,” Q grumbled from his nest of blankets, amused by how hard everyone failed to be silent when they panicked and annoyed that James and Eve had dumped everything that they could use as a cover on top of him as if people would suddenly forget what they had just saw and – probably – screenshotted until they had no more free space on whatever device they were using.

Alec was honestly apologetic as was the poor man who had assisted in revealing to the world who the mysterious man with an acoustic guitar was. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Q. I think I hit my head for real when I woke up. Maybe I should see Doctor Sterling.”

But Q didn’t seem even the least bit bothered while he rapidly typed on his laptop, James holding him in place as the sharp turns became sharper still. “You were supposed to _accidentally_ reveal yourself anyway, remember?” Alec clicked his tongue and looked to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, maybe you should see Doctor Sterling if you can’t remember that part of the plan,” Q continued in a murmur, sending a quick text to the good doctor who was in the bus just behind them.

“What if I forgot how to play the guitar?” Alec asked suddenly, looking terrified.

“You were playing just fine a few minutes ago so stop worrying Q,” James snapped.

“Play nice, children,” Q intervened, patting Alec’s back. “Overall, the reveal couldn’t have gone smoother if I spent 5 years planning, though a heads up would have made everything easier. Still, the past can’t be helped and there’s no reason to cry over spilt milk.” He flashed them all the brightest of his smiles with dropped when he focused on James – James’ stomach also dropped at the same time. “Though you might not be pleased by the way our temporarily sleeping arrangements will be perceived by some of your fans.”

It was nice to know that Q could be wrong.


	16. Delivery, yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new addition to the band <3
> 
> Eternal love for the wonderful artist, aliensdoodless

In just a single day, Alec’s subscriber numbers doubled, there was a huge spike in the band’s sale numbers – not that they needed that – and Q couldn’t help but give him another pat on the back for how eloquent he was when giving a statement during the live stream. It would have been kind of hard to get people to demand his cancellation since it had been made clear from the get-go that all AdSense money would be donated to various charities and Alec hadn’t gotten entangled into a single scandal the entire time he had had his channel.

What slipped Q’s mind was Cyanide Cigarettes who seemed hell-bent on making up for the lack of a childish reaction during the MTV Music Award after-party. The first jabs came from online profiles that totally weren’t them and it was the usual name-calling paired off with side by side comparisons of dogs sleeping over their masters’ covers with screenshots of he and James.

He didn’t ask James not to react to them because he _expected_ him to know that he’s not supposed to do that by now and to his credit, James lived up to that without breaking too much of a sweat.

Then came the _gifts_ – dog toys, of course – and Q found himself struggling with not sending SPECTRE and Cyanide Cigarettes a few not so carefully worded emails that contained specific instructions for what to do with their gifts and where to shove them. Instead, he encouraged the band to post updates with how well they were doing while MI6’s official account was doing the same.

But then they sent something that couldn’t be ignored just as they were a day away from a nice two-week break in their tour – a golden retriever puppy. When Q was called outside of the venue in the middle of the concert – alongside three very large security guards – and he was met by the most uncomfortable looking store owner that had ever existed in the history of mankind – and who also had his pyjama top under his jacket – with cage out of which a very distinct kind of whimpering could be heard, Q felt like he wanted to cry.

“Delivery Bond dog, yes?” The man said in very broken English and with a very thick accent.

Q was shaking his head even before he was saying it. “No way.”

The man frowned and raised his voice. “Bond man, yes?” Q sighed and nodded which made the man smile. “Dog,” he said, pointing at the cage, “paid.” He gave Q a thumb’s up before pushing the cage in his arms. “Delivery, yes.”

“No delivery, no delivery!” Q shouted after the quickly retreating man, attempting to run for a fraction of a second before giving up when he heard the whimpering getting louder and choosing to just curse his heart out. “Oh, my God, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do with a dog?”

“Well—”

“It’s not an actual question.” Q snapped at the poor guard who was only trying to be helpful before taking a deep breath in a very lame attempt to calm down. But those pesky worries of his were still there. Was the dog vaccinated? How many people knew already that James was now a dog owner? Would James want the dog? How big of a monster would they be if they gave the dog away? If they kept the dog, how would they get him back home? Did they need a passport? How long would that take? Who did he need to bribe to make the whole thing happen faster? “I’m going back to the hotel to figure _this_ out,” Q snarled, flinching when he found a wet nose rub against the palm of his hand but also feeling most of his anger melt away. “Please make sure that R is aware of what happened and where I am so we can avoid the whole mess from the last time, okay?”

He called M on his way to the hotel and explained what had happened, realizing when he heard her long, suffering sigh that the dog was going to come home with them. Home, not on tour, M assured Q though he had not started to word his newest worry. Informing James of this and resisting his pleas would fall on Q but M was sure that enough time had passed for Q to be immune to whatever James threw his way.

And thus the complicated legal wheels were set in motion. The hotel was immediately paid more than enough not to get anyone banned for their newest addition to their little band of misfits which resulted in a special valet being assigned to them that would see to the puppy when they couldn’t. They were even kind enough to provide him with a list of trainers which made Q wonder just how much M gave them.

Now the dog itself was an absolute delight. Q found documents that attested to its good health – the valet was kind enough to translate the bottom line for Q and promised that he would have someone officially translate the papers – and then spent the next two hours telling the puppy not to lick his face while holding him close enough to get his face licked and pressing kisses to the top of his fluffy head. He might have also been talking to the puppy in a baby voice but how else were you supposed to talk with a tiny, fluffy ball with ears and just the most ‘bop-able’ nose that ever existed and that tripped over his tail when he tried to walk and whose bark was barely a yip?

By the time James and the others returned and came to his room, Q was ready to adopt the dear thing himself. “It’s good that you’re back because I’m seconds away from naming him,” Q said as Alec pushed everyone out of his way to make a beeline for him.

“He shall be named ‘Sir Drools-A-Lot’ for he slobbered on Q so much that I am surprised he didn’t drown,” Alec proclaimed after staring intently at the puppy for one minute, holding him like he was Simba being shown to the world. “All bow down to your new—”

“That is a dumb name that clearly doesn’t fit him,” Eve interrupted Alec, holding up one of Q’s sneakers that had bit the dust five minutes into the dog’s new life. “Gut Ripper is the only thing we can call him.”

Q worried for the kind of names those two would come up for their kids if they ever decided to have any. “It is not your dog to name,” he said calmly as he plucked the happy puppy from Alec’s hold. “It’s James’ new dog to name.”

He barely took a step towards James and he found himself puppy-less. “Q, how did you know I’ve been thinking for a while now about buying a dog?” He asked, cuddling it and kissing his little yellow head, laughing when the animal covered him in slobber.

Q ran a hand through his hair and got ready to catch the dog just in case James unpleasantly surprised him and threw the innocent animal after finding out who gave it to him. “I wasn’t aware that you wanted a dog and even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything as irresponsible as getting you one in the middle of a tour.”

“I don’t like where you’re going with this,” James muttered, though he was still hugging the puppy who continued to wag his entire butt – he was too small to just wag his tail and Q found it hard to hold back from gushing – and lick his face.

“It’s Silva’s latest insult, isn’t it?” Alec asked and Q nodded.

James’ hold on the puppy relaxed and he frowned, lips thinning so much that they were nothing more than a red line on his face. But only for a second. “Well, this is nothing more than further proof of how incompetent he is because it’s impossible not to love him. And because I always wanted a dog named Duke that will be this one’s name.” He plopped down on the nearest armchair, ditched his shirt – because he had promised to take more shirtless selfies this year – and pulled his phone out before arranging the puppy on his lap. “Now let’s introduce Duke to the fans and let Silva know he failed like always. Q, you’re Duke’s adoptive mother, so scooch in.”

“Only if you promise you won’t call me that in your post.” James looked more hurt than confused so Q rushed to explain. “The puppy’s mother is a female dog which is commonly known as a ‘bitch’ and I wish to avoid any flame wars that your innocent and more than sweet gesture might cause.” He was already doing his best to ignore the fans who were calling him all sorts of names for supposedly getting between James and Alec or James and Eve or James and whoever they wanted James to end up with and pretend he didn’t see some of the beautiful fan art that started to pop up after the world saw him and James napping together.

“Though I would personally ban for life whoever would dare to call you that,” James started in a low growl that had Duke look up at him as he tried to imitate him, “I will instead refer to you as Duke’s other father – if that’s alright with you.”

Satisfied, Q leaned over James’ shoulder and turned off the phone’s flash. “Might hurt the puppy’s eyes.” He waited for James to stick his tongue out – a subtle nod to the fact that they knew who sent the puppy and that they didn’t care – and to take the customary fifteen pictures before destroying whatever dreams he might have had about bringing the puppy around the world. “He’s getting a first-class ticket back to London at the end of this mini-vacation so don’t even think about promising people that he’ll rock the stage with you.”

James almost gasped, clutching the dog to his chest. “What kind of a father—?”

Q pushed James’ face away from him and scratched Duke behind the ears. “He’s too young, we’ll be too busy, I have enough on my plate already, and the rules for bringing pets in countries vary too much from one to another for us to be able to do that and actually complete the tour.”

“But Q, look at the little furry baby—”

“No,” he interrupted Eve’s plea, turning to look at R for support only to be met with pleading eyes of betrayal. “By the time we’re done with this vacation, we’ll be three months away from the end of the tour and I _refuse_ to get us banned in any country because of animal trafficking.”

Between disappointed groans, their food was served and James gathered all the pillows in Q’s room to build Duke a chair fit for a nobleman. Q rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything because he knew that Duke would end up in James’ lap which was exactly what happened but opposed James and Alec feeding the puppy anything else other than the special food that their poor special valet manifested out of somewhere considering how late it was. By the end of the night, Duke had his own Instagram and Twitter as well as a trainer and sitter for when he arrived in London.

James handled all of that on his own because – in his own words – Duke was now his full responsibility even though he’d named Q as his other parent. He made sure to text M and ask her to send a ‘thank you’ email on his behalf to Silva and his crew for making everyone’s day even better.


	17. Buffoons!

One of his biggest pet peeves was incompetence. Nothing made his stomach turn faster than when he witnessed someone doing something incredibly stupid even though it would take only one second to realize what the inevitable outcome would be. And there he was, forced by cruel fate and someone else’s dumb mistake to technically be part of what had to be the very definition of incompetence.

“How could it not have crossed your mind that a _puppy_ would be a very beneficial addition to their sickening crew or merry minstrels?” Safin asked and chucked his phone at Silva’s head. He very intentionally missed him but the coward had the actual gals to flinch which only pissed Safin off even more.

Le Chiffre was even more of a coward. He huddled in the corner of the room that had the bar tucked in it, careful not to make any noises as he carefully emptied glass after glass of whiskey that was worth more than the two of them combined. Like Safin didn’t know he too was to blame for the whole fiasco and like he was some kind of a dumb animal that would forget about him so long as he sat as still as a statue. He just pissed Safin even more, especially since he was the first to drop a major ball when he screwed things with Boothroyd.

“Bond isn’t smart enough to keep his cool when he’s insulted,” Silva growled, running his hand over the place the phone had struck the wall while looking at the post that introduced the world to the puppy while showing off Bond’s pecks and Boothroyd’s clothing and stupid, smiling face. “It’s obvious that Q _—”_

“Even Bond isn’t that much of an idiot as to throw away a creature that makes fucking warlords act soft,” Safin snapped. “You also sent that wretched fleabag anonymously so we can’t play any card at this time without being obvious in our attempt to get in on their _clout_.”

“Q would find a way,” Le Chiffre spoke up tough he had moved behind the bar so he’d have a clear sight of Safin and whatever thing he might throw his way. “We’re not _managers_ or PR puppeteers, so why are you having a go at us and not at whatever our manager’s name is? Or at _daddy dearest_ for not having sufficient money to force Q to manage us?”

Safin took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. Constant headaches were a hassle that got in the way of his composing and he had already taken two pills for that in the last hour. He didn’t want to risk an aneurysm if he took more and he certainly didn’t want these two buffoons to be the literal end of him.

“Pretty sure that all the money in the world wouldn’t get Boothroyd to manage this poor excuse of a band after the stunt you pulled at their concert.” Safin grinned when he saw the face Le Chiffre pulled. He could give him one point for not having a crappy memory and knowing when he did wrong, but he was still in the red and directly below an amoeba when it came to his ability to think. “How does a job offer almost end with either the start of a cheap porn movie or a good reason to have you chemically castrated?”

Le Chiffre jumped up. “How dare you imply such a thing? I would never even think of going that far!” Le Chiffre raged, attempting to keep eye contact with Safin only to fail miserably three seconds later and quietly sat back down. “I was just teasing him.”

“And isn’t that just the perfect thing to do when you’re trying to poach someone?” Thinking back on the day that Le Chiffre returned to the hotel room with his tail tucked between his legs made Safin’s blood boil with rage.

He had pointed out that sending the supposedly-smart but obviously still in the Neanderthal stage of evolution Le Chiffre to make an offer would be a bad idea. Though he had not spent a lot of time with Boothroyd, their short interaction in that shoddy bar had painted a perfect image of him in Safin’s head.

Boothroyd might have seemed to be inexperienced and a total pushover, but he was anything but that. He knew the industry inside and out and could easily navigate the intricacies of his job, always landing his clients the best contracts possible. Boothroyd was an affordable goldmine and Mansfield had trained the blasted man so well that he was very loyal as far as anyone could tell. Well, Blofeld thought that people simply didn’t offer him enough as, realistically, everyone could be bought.

The sum was pretty as were the perks, Safin would attest to that, but the messenger was less than subpar. And after months of seeing the kind of posts Bond made with him… Boothroyd was close with everyone in the band but even before the infamous YouTube reveal, Safin could tell that there was _something_ unspoken between Boothroyd and Bond. They always seemed too happy, too lost in each other’s eyes when they weren’t looking at the camera, too excited and nervous at the same time to be so close or to touch each other. It was kind of like someone photoshopped two fans who just met their raison d’etre into the same picture.

Maybe the materialistic things would have brought Boothroyd over to SPECTRE before Bond even with all of his loyalty nagging him in the back of his head but now that he was locked in a dumb sentimental dance with a more evolved Neanderthal than the ones that surrounded Safin but after being annoyed and insulted behind a trashcan in the back of a stinky alley... Well now they had their work cut out for them.

“This is their year,” Safin spoke up, holding his hand out and one of the many faceless people working for them – well, more for him than anyone else at this point – placed a brand new phone that was already set up in it. “The award show might not mean anything for anyone anymore at this point but they are guaranteed at least a couple of nominations for the Grammies.”

“Rock bands rarely win even one of those.” It was amazing how one could physically feel the IQ of the room drop whenever Silva opened his mouth. “And certainly no one as trashy as them ever won.” But what could one expect when dealing with someone more focused on petty revenge than anything else?

“But they aren’t trash, are they?” Safin held up his phone on which he had a spreadsheet of everything that their rivals had done so far. “Highlighting just the important milestones here because we don’t have all day, just this year their drummer became a published bestselling author with a show in the works that will become the new Olympics for musicians and bridge three generations of singers, the guitarist is now a top-rated YouTuber with a heart of gold in two art communities because he also fucking draws, and the bane of your existence shat out an entire romantic album that doesn’t have his fans or the critics calling him a sap or a sell-out.”

Silva clutched his glass so tightly that he shattered it. “They’re a shoo-in for the Grammies because of a bloody pencil pusher that won’t spare us so much as the time of day, got it.”

“Can you do _anything_ else other than throw mistakes in our faces?” Le Chiffre growled, lowering his head a little when Safin’s shifted his cold gaze on him. “We understand that we lost Q and the year to them—”

“Q for good if we keep you in the band,” Silva snipped.

“—but do you have a plan or are we stuck to play second fiddle to them for all eternity?” Le Chiffre finished in a growl, fists clenched at his side.

Safin rolled his eyes and moved to stand between the two of them before they could jump at each other's necks. This squabbling and fighting were normally very entertaining but a proper question had been posed and he needed those brain cells of theirs to focus on him. “If we remove Boothroyd from the equation the balance will be restored.”

“For God’s sake, Safin, we’re not killing someone! Did the explosion scramble your brain as well as your face?”

Just when he thought Le Chiffre couldn’t get any stupider. “Maybe it damaged more than just your eye if that’s the conclusion you reached.” This time, he did throw his phone with the intent of hitting him but Le Chiffre had enough presence of mind to slightly lean to the right and avoid it. “But I am not opposed to _killing_ a budding relationship. With Boothroyd being a proper professional and Bond a hothead…”

He trailed off and stepped out of the room. He had the idea but now he had to come up with an actual plan.


	18. Seinfeld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter with new art thanks to our darling aliensdoodless <3
> 
> My hatred for tumblr grows every time I need to dig around for the piece of art because aliensdoodless' blog got marked as mature and tags don't work but bot sex blogs are still spamming me, the joy :|

James pictured himself spending his free two weeks walking Duke in the park with Q wrapped around his arm. They were in a country that still managed to have a proper autumn season with orange and yellow leaves slowly falling from trees and being carried away by a cold wind so he could have easily recreated what had to be a cliché scene from that romance book Q carried with him everywhere.

But that wouldn’t be. It turned out that although the shop owner stated via official non-forged paperwork that Duke was up to date with his vaccines, the veterinarian that checked the pup concluded that he was missing _at least_ his most important one. That itself wasn’t the problem, the shot’s price was even less than loose change as far as James was concerned. No, the problem was that Duke had to stay inside for three whole weeks to make sure that he didn’t get something and die while their vacation was just two weeks. Q said no even before James could part his lips to suggest that they delay the rest of their tour.

James needn’t worry for long because Q was on the case. As they had a large crew created with the sole purpose of making the set-up of a performance as fast and easy as possible, it was easy to temporarily part ways with someone for a week. Well, sort of.

Duke quickly stole everyone’s hearts even though he was not a cat – Q spending five minutes to gush over those furry criminals before remembering that he was proposing something and that he had to be professional – so everyone volunteered to stay behind with him even before Q could start listing off the incentives for doing so.

Q still insisted on making it clear that the person who stayed behind would still be paid as if they were on the road with them, MI6 would pay for lodgings and food, and that an addendum to their already existing contract would be added but no one heard him because they were too busy shouting over each other what made them the perfect fit to watch over Duke.

In the end, Duke was the one who picked his handler, the puppy loving the woman who was part of the team in charge making sure that boxes weren’t in anyone’s way almost as much as he loved Eve – and a lot less than he loved James or Q because it turned out that James was a jittery pet owner who instantly started to fret as the mere thought that he might be doing something that made Duke dislike him.

With that fire more or less put out, James just made good use of the short time he had with Duke. Plus, Duke not being allowed to go outside ended up working in James’ favour as he could now teach Q how to sight-read music without anyone finding out. Well, Alec found out because he caught him trying to smuggle into the hotel a violin but promised he wouldn’t say anything to Q. He didn’t, however, promise that he wouldn’t tease him about it so James wasn’t all that surprised when he started texting him porn lines involving teachers and naughty students.

Q as a student was… interesting. He tried his best but he tended to overthink everything and he usually started the lessons by intently staring at whatever piece of music James got him for the first fifteen minutes, silently moving his lips as he counted the notes before looking for them on the violin.

“Not sure this is how you learn music sight-reading,” James said on the third day and Q turned an intense shade of red so fast that it couldn’t be healthy. “You’re doing your best, I know but I do think we need another approach,” James added, already looking on his phone for the perfect way to help Q with his problem before texting Alec and directly asking him for websites made by people that knew what they were talking about.

During their fourth private lesson in which Q had put his violin aside to memorize key signatures and scales like the internet advised, he seemed to give up. “I’m not inclined to follow this instrument in any professional way so maybe I should stop wasting your time.”

“I don’t see this as my time being wasted.” He saw it as precious moments spent with a normally very determined man that made the cutest of faces when dealing with something that wasn’t quite coming out as he wanted. It was both a pity and a blessing that Q only did this in private as James had a hard time picturing anyone focusing on anything else other than his faces. “But we can stop if you want. You did play the violin for me multiple times and I’d hate for you to start hating your hobby or get stressed on your time off.”

Q glared at the violin for a good minute before he spoke again. “I do love playing the bloody thing but it’s frustrating that I can’t seem to get the music reading right. I understand your instructions and I know practice makes perfect but…” He trailed off and waved the hand with the bow in the music sheet’s general direction, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

This told James that Q was embarrassed by failure and while he doubted that there were a lot of people who took something like that in stride, it maybe meant a lot more to Q as he was a manager and nothing less than perfection was expected of people from that profession. Given Q’s workaholic tendencies, it made perfectly good sense that it affected the little time off he afforded himself.

Sad is what it was but he wasn’t going to outright call Q out on it. But there was nothing wrong if it was strongly suggested to him. “I feel as if I am at fault here but if it brings you joy, must practise make perfect? You looked happy when you pantomimed playing the violin that night and I – _we_ – were happy when we got to play for you because you couldn’t hear our music right away. I’m also happy to help you but I don’t want you to feel like you have to accept my help just because a manager needs to keep the talent in a good disposition.”

His suggestion was met with a deep frown and a few minutes of complete silence. This left James pounder his own words, silently worrying that he might have stepped one of those invisible boundaries that had plagued human relationships since the dawn of society. He had offered something, Q had accepted it but both of them were not quite fully there from a sane point of view. Then Q had brought it up and he eagerly accepted but Q was too tired and he was too high on naturally-produced endorphin due to their proximity.

This is what he got for sticking his nose where it wasn’t his business and all after he had promised himself not to be intrusive ever again. Huh, his teachers had been right to say that he was a hothead that might as well be an old dog who couldn’t be taught new tricks.

“I suppose there is no pressure when it comes to a hobby,” Q said with half a mouth. “You really don’t mind if I’m a horrible student?”

Alec had texted him a similar porn line earlier so James had to turn away to busy himself with the music sheets and rethink the whole ‘tight trousers only' rule that he had. “No problem there. And I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

So they continued their lessons though not entirely uninterrupted. Every now and then Q would get a text on his personal phone that would make him grin from ear to ear and shake his head before firing back a text without saying anything to him. But some texts upset Q and had him reaching out to M. Topping everything off, every so often a bellhop would shyly knock on the door to his room with various pretty boxes that were turned away the second Q caught a glance of the small cards attached to them. Q never said anything about what the gifts were or who they were from but they usually put him in a sour mood.

Perhaps knowing better by now, James didn’t ask Q anything. Instead, he talked with Alec and – after making her swear on her arms, legs, and all the graves of her relatives that she wouldn’t breathe a word about it to R – Eve about this little mystery, all three of them concluding that the relationship Q supposedly didn’t have was going through a rough patch.

“R surely knows,” Eve suggested, rolling her eyes and raising her hands in defeat at the sharp look James threw her way. “I mean why ask if you’re not going to like the answer?”

Alec had a different plan. “We spend more time with him than whoever his lover is, so just continue to play your dependable card and when the roller-coaster ride comes to its inevitable end, be that shoulder he needs to cry on. Soon enough you’ll just be there and he’ll be there and—”

“Wait, wasn’t that on a _Seinfeld_ episode?” Eve interrupted.

Alec scoffed. “If it’s a good plan, what does it matter where I got it from?”

“But it didn’t work. It turned out to be the worst plan in history,” Eve insisted and James quickly left before drumsticks and guitar picks started flying around, picking the confused Duke up on his way out where he caught a glimpse of a fancy dressed Q – well, for him, but he still looked beautiful – leaving his room.

Overall, even with the mystery that was gnawing at the back of his mind, James would have to say that this was the best mini-vacation he had when sex and alcohol weren’t involved and when it came to an end, he was back to his Duke-worrying.

“He likes it when you scratch him behind the ears like so,” James was explaining and exemplifying to Duke’s babysitter while Q did his best to herd him towards the bus. “Oh, if he starts to miss either one of us, you can let him chew on Eve’s drumsticks or on Alec’s black boots, or sleep on Q’s abomination of a cream-coloured sweater—”

“Or let him roll around on James’ abomination of a leather jacket,” Q interrupted sounding as pleasant as he could be because no one wanted to find out how Duke would react if the two people he loved the most snipped at each other. “She knows what she needs to do James so do be less of a prick and get moving already.”

James easily sidestepped Q but also wrapped an arm around his middle to keep him from falling – he didn’t realize right away that he was _hugging_ Q because he had to make sure that Duke was being well taken care of. “If the lights are too strong when you go to the indoor pool,” because Q made sure to extend a lower scale version of the current package that ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ got to enjoy to also include access to one of the few private pools the hotel had, “ask that they be turned down but also put the sunglasses that Alec got for him.”

The woman smiled kindly and nodded. “No need to worry about anything, Mister Bond. I will take good care of our little Duke.”

James relaxed a little and Q thought he would finally be able to pack him on the bus and leave before the tears came – or the ‘eye sweats’ as Alec had called them earlier – but it was still impossible to move him as he had something important left to say. “One more thing, Miss Steinburg… If Duke loves you more than me when I get back to London, I will sue.”

“He will do no such thing,” Q rushed to assure the obviously amused woman which was the exact reaction James expected her to have. She had been working with him from the first concert he had under the MI6 guidance so she was used with his dramatism. “Come, James, we’ve already had a late start and I don’t want us to go over the speeding limit.”

No longer fully focused on Duke, James revelled in Q’s warmth and the fact that he wasn’t tense or doing anything to put some distance between the two of them. “I’ve always thought of those limits as friendly suggestions.”

“Text me the next time you are out driving so I can do the smart thing and stay in,” Q said drily.


	19. This is Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and kind words <3 
> 
> Lovely art provided by our super talented aliensdoodless~

So far, James’ favourite roads were in Romania. He didn’t know if all of them were as full of sudden turns or as narrow as the ones they took to reach the city hidden in the mountains where their next show was but he sure hoped they were because he always ended up smushed against Q.

Q was less happy about that because it made his tea-drinking impossible and he looked outright insulted when Alec suggested he use a straw for that. “Next thing you’ll say is that I can reheat my tea by using the microwave.”

“Well,” Alec started his tease but then James quickly and painfully reminded him with a kick under the table that a tea-less Q so early in the morning wasn’t someone with a sense of humour. “Well, that’s just a preposterous, Q,” he corrected himself. “Still, you have to admit that sipping tea with a straw is better than nothing.”

Q made sure to look as offended as possible after each sip he took and the first thing James did when they got to the hotel was to order a cup of tea for him which he almost convinced Q to enjoy in a hot tub. But no, Q couldn’t allow himself to get too relaxed because he had to make sure that their sold-out concert that had fireworks and that would take place extremely close to a forest – a _haunted_ forest even – was going to go without a problem.

“Stupid concert and stupid manager doing his stupid job,” James grumbled as he watched Q’s retreating form from his balcony.

Eve stopped blowing kisses in R’s direction to roll her eyes at James. “You wouldn’t have met him if we weren’t doing ‘stupid’ concerts and you wouldn’t have liked him if he didn’t do his ‘stupid’ job,” she smugly pointed out before throwing a nurse costume that she took a picture of on James’ bed. “Since you’re still one pair of balls short, are you sure you don’t want me to ask—”

“No, I don’t want you to ask him if he ‘ _likes’_ likes me because we aren’t in high school,” James snapped. Things in life were never that easy and if he heard from Eve that Q laughed in her face when she asked him that before showing her pictures of his – probably – muscle-bound boyfriend that was perfection, he was never going to stop writing sad songs. “What the hell is up with the rack of costumes anyway?”

Eve held out a shiny flier covered in drawings of carved pumpkins, witch hat wearing cats and flying bats. “Exclusive Halloween costume party a day after the concert. R was more than happy to do a couple’s costume and I’m trying to find the right one because we signed up for the contest.”

They just got here thirty minutes ago and R instantly got on the phone! “When?”

Eve was busy taking pictures of three more outfits she selected. “Remember last week when Q’s shower got interrupted?”

That wasn’t something that he was going to forget any time soon. It had been a particularly long day so R had turned in early. Alec had managed to stub his toe pretty badly so their doctor was also in their bus, tending to him. He had just finished washing the dishes as punishment for… Well, he forgot what he had done but he had been on dish duty and after he was done, he joined Eve on the sofa for a round of games while Q was taking an extra-long shower to get rid of the coldness that made itself at home in his bones.

The lull of what had to be the most domestic day a rock band could have was interrupted by the shrill of Q’s phone and not a second later, by Q himself bursting out the shower and asking them to look away because he had to answer right away.

James was already looking in that direction because of the sudden noise so it couldn’t be helped that he caught sight of Q’s very pale yet perky ass before he turned his head away so fast that he heard a bone crack and after that point, despite Eve’s helpful pouring of cold water over his trousers, he couldn’t focus on anything. Then again even if he took the half a second of an ass-shot out of the equation, his brain still wouldn’t have worked given that Q was standing in front of them in nothing but a towel, water dripping off his hair and down his shoulders and chest and abs.

He bit his lower lip as he thought about kissing the two cat paw tattoos on Q’s back and about gently scratching directly beneath them to see if he’d get Q to start purring. God, how jealous he was of the tattoo artist that got to ink him. Was it too late to learn that trade? And would Q let him turn him into a canvas?

Eve snapped her fingers in front of him. “What a dumb question to ask,” she muttered before flicking his nose and pointing to his crotch. “ _That_ can’t be healthy at this point. You sure it’s caused by your horniness towards Q and not some sort of exotic STD?”

James slapped Eve’s hand. “I’m perfectly healthy so just get on with it,” he growled.

Apparently, while he was too busy not being able to form a single coherent thought, Q was explaining that due to the period they were going to be in Romania and because the entire world associated the country with the supernatural, the hotel they were renting allowed its guests to take part in a private costume party. Q was happy that he had managed to convince the hotel to extend its guest list to possibly include everyone from their massive team if they wanted to and even offered to provide them with an array of costumes.

“He signed you up, no worries,” Eve added when James frowned and made a little noise in the back of his throat. “And himself, though just for the costume contest not for the activity one because that’s just for—”

“I’ll sign us up for the contest,” James interrupted Eve because he wanted to surprise Q with being proactive about something management-related for once and was out the door and down the stairs before Eve was done calling out his name.

He didn’t quite understand why the concierge insisted on asking him three times if he was sure he wanted to sign up with his manager for the contest or why three of the main restaurant’s waitresses – that had no reason being there – looked super excited when he filled in the forms but he was super happy when he was told that he needed to coordinate his costume with Q’s.

Naturally, he opted for the demon and angel motif from their album cover and when Q returned to his room and saw the myriad of costumes on his bed and James trying to fix a halo on his head, he instantly knew what was up. “Did you even read anything about the contest, James?”

James huffed. “Of course.” He lost interest after the title and what was there to know other than the fact that they had to match? “I spoke with our make-up artist and she said that fixing these horns on your head and making them look real—”

“What in the world makes you think that I’ll prance around naked?” Q interrupted, arms crossed over his chest.

James held out a sheet. “This will cover the most important part.” Q narrowed his eyes. “It’s made out of silk so it won’t chafe anything.” Q’s lips were so thin that James could barely see them and he swore that the room’s temperature had dropped in the negative. “Or we can rethink the costumes?”

That got Q to show him a smile – a sharp, dangerous one that only convinced James even more that Q needed to dress up as a devil if not the devil. “What a wonderful idea, James. And you came up with it all by yourself. A genuine miracle and it’s not even Christmas yet,” he said as he patted his back. “Now, since you already came up with a plan for the horns, you can dress up as a devil.” He pointed one slender finger at him, frown back on his face. “I will stress the ‘dress’ part, James, understand?”

“Your wish is my command,” James murmured. “Are you _tempted_ to go as an angel then?”

Q rolled his eyes twice but he was also obviously trying to fight back a smile. “So I have to look forward to those puns, lovely.” He turned his focus towards the rack of costumes and pulled out something long, black, and not sexy in the least. “I will be a priest. Now get thee behind me, you foul fiend and I’ll see you at dinner.”

The diner they were served was delicious and – for a lack of a better term – monstrous. At the start, they were served this small glass of what had to be pure alcohol that burned just right on its way down to go with a huge spread of assorted meats, cheeses, and pickled vegetables.

James honestly thought that was their entire diner and he would have been fine with that but the dishes just kept on coming as the excited head-waiter explained what everything was and made sure that they were okay with eating what they were served – the tripe soup was a hard pass for Q but he and Alec were more than happy to clean his bowl for him.

By the time they were done, two hours had passed. Most of their crew were promising to never eat so much again even though they were still nibbling on their leftovers, Q swore up and down that he was a giant ball that needed to be rolled up to his room, Eve was pleasantly buzzed and playing footsie under the table with R, Alec had signed up for the contest because ‘it wasn’t fair for everyone else to get to participate without him’, with Doctor Sterling agreeing to be his partner and the two had also picked their costumes. A very productive and very pleasant – and heavy – diner overall.

“You guys are aware that the contest is for _couples_ , right?” R asked, hiding her grin behind a glass of wine.

James’ head instantly snapped in Q’s direction. “I had no idea, I swear.”

“It’s fine,” Q assured him. “I checked with the organizers and there’s no kissing or _intimate_ touching involved because children will be in the crowd so it’s not a problem if non-romantic couples participate. The real question is,” he continued and then turned his attention to Doctor Sterling who usually dined with them, “are _you_ okay with that, doctor?”

“Call me Pierce already, please,” the doctor started, chuckling. “And I had a feeling I was going to get roped into this so I too talked with the organizers so I know what I’m getting into and I see no problem with the contest either.”

Alec threw his arm around Pierce’s shoulders and almost knocked a bottle of water off the table when he pulled him in a tight hug. “Which is perfect because our costumes will be the most epic ones.”

James and Eve snorted at the same time and then all three started to glare at each other – Alec did his creepy thing with his eyes which allowed him to look at both Eve and James at the same time even though they were on opposite sides of each other – but Q stepped in before they started flinging leftovers at each other. “You’re all already in a contest to determine exactly that so must you make a scene so late in the night and so close to when the poor waiting staff gets off duty?”

“Well, if you are going to bring logic and emotional blackmail to the table, then I will be satisfied to wait until the contest starts to beat these guys up,” Eve said after a moment and sat up at the same time as James and Alec. “And gentlemen, it will be an honour and pleasure to lord the prize over you until next year.”

“It’s on,” James breathed and –very gently – grabbed Q’s arm because if Eve and Alec were going to be holding on to their partners, then so would he. “Come, your holiness! We need to make sure you have the priest-iest costume out there.”

“No, I need to make sure we don’t burn down a country,” Q deadpanned, digging his heels into the ground and nodding his thanks to R who was holding out his ringing phone. “If you find a sexy priest suit, I will make you eat it,” he added before answering the phone and disappearing into the night with R by his side.

Wanting to avoid seeing Q walking around like a zombie again, they kept the usual hijinks that would precede a contest between them to a minimum. James also made sure to let himself in Q’s room around midnight to remind him that he had a bed and that he liked sleeping. Eve was the one making sure that both Q and R ate throughout the day and Alec contributed by assuring everyone that while he liked explosions, he would not go anywhere near anything that could start a fire when they were in a dangerous zone.

When their concert concluded without a single thing going even the slightest bit wrong, the crewmembers that had been around Q told James that he breathed a sigh of relief and swore that his colour instantly returned to his cheeks as he thanked God for everything. Given that Q was still as pale as a ghost a few moments later when James ducked behind the stage for his customary hug, the crewmembers’ recount of the events was a testimony to how tired and stressed they were and how welcomed the Halloween party was.

“What’s with that look?” Q asked the next day as he was making sure that his chasuble and stole were straight.

“I was just wondering if you ever thought about becoming a priest or if being a manager was your childhood dream,” James lied through his teeth because, honestly, how could you tell someone that you’re practically a mental Instagram filter away from seeing little hearts around their head?

Q snorted. “I was very interested in computers.” Finally satisfied with how he looked, he turned towards James and carefully touched the area around where the horns had been applied to his forehead. “Anita is severely underpaid.”

“Made sure to slip her some money without her knowing though I wish she’d have time to do something about these,” James grumbled, turning around to show Q the back of his leather jacket that had a pair of bright red bat wings painted on and his cheap, short devil tail.

“I don’t know,” Q started, running his hand over James’ shoulders, where the wing print was on his jacket. “I think this works for the best. Think of it as you being a devil that openly admitted to being one and then revealed his true face when a priest threw holy water in your face because you kept pestering him with various temptations.”

James knew better than to point out that he hadn’t been sprayed yet seeing how close Q was to a bottle of water. “That is a very good idea. Are we supposed to submit little backstories for this contest? Because we totally just won that round.”

“No, but that’s an excellent idea for something that we could do for your fans next year provided we make certain _stipulations_ in the rules,” Q said, accepting the offered arm.

Though close the winter, the weather was still pleasant enough for the party to take place outside. The organizers chose the outer garden of the castle that loomed over the city from the top of a very steep cliff and they couldn’t have found a better place if they spent the next thousand years looking for one.

It was a very imposing castle, obviously built out of necessity rather than opulence. It was the perfect strategic point for a defensive fortress as it was on the highest point of the mountain pass and it allowed its owners a perfect vantage point. The soldier in James had started gushing over the castle even before hearing the ridiculous horror story that got attached to it so that it now might have a monetary strategic service.

The area of the garden that was set up for the party was indeed flawless, making it seem like you’ve stepped in a fairy-tale setting that had the big bad wolf waiting for you just around the corner. James had been sure that he and Q would have an easy time winning but the party was obviously for the wealthy so there were a lot of people running around in costumes that looked like they had been created for movies.

R looked like a proper princess in her immaculate white dress and Eve was just the perfect devious vampire that stalked her innocent virgin, waiting for that perfect time to chomp down on her exposed neck. Still, as far as James was concerned, R paled in comparison to Q no matter how fancy the clothes she was put in and no matter how much makeup was applied – not that she was ugly or anything; just not as beautiful as Q in James’ eyes.

Alec’s costume was more… complex and eye-catching. He was green from head to toe and had two bolts sticking out of his neck. He was dragging around poor Pierce who was dressed as a mad scientist, fake blood splattered over his white coat and everything. James had to admit that they made a perfect picture of Dr Frankenstein and his monster even if some of the green had rubbed off on Pierce’s neck and face.

But the winners weren’t decided just by the costumes. Games were also very important and the first one ended up being James favourite by far: apple bobbing. Or rather, a form of apple bobbing. One half of the couple was supposed to bob for the apples and their partner was supposed to take the apple from their mouth with their own and then place it in a basket. Q needed a moment to pluck that first apple from James’ mouth, leaning back a little with his lips puckered and eyes fixed on James’ own before he remembered the rules.

They finished second, behind a young couple and three placed in front of Alec and Pierce and miles ahead of Eve and R since Eve kept dropping the apple to steal a kiss from R. Adorable and more than ingenious but not something James would attempt given Q’s initial reaction.

The second game was Halloween Movie Trivia and Alec and Pierce won that without breaking a sweat. No surprise when it came to Alec but a little bit unsettling that their doctor knew so many gory movies. Eve and R also got more points than them and Q admitted that he didn’t like horror movies at all so he avoided them like the plague.

The third game was named ‘Mummy wrap’. Q chose to be the mummy due to his lack of horns and James was the first to finish wrapping his partner from head to toe in cheap toilet paper.

The fourth game was made for Eve – the milk bottle game. Well, because it was Halloween it got turned into ‘throw the plastic pumpkin at the stack of milk bottles while your partner is really close to it and hope you don’t hit them in the face’ game. And those stack of bottles had no chance against Eve’s dubious bullseye which made James unable to concentrate for fear of getting hit with one of the plastic pumpkins. R was pretty good, Alec kept trying to do trick shots, Pierce wasted his time trying to calculate the proper angle and speed to throw his pumpkin at, and Q… Q hit James in the face not once, but twice.

“You were supposed to use holy water, not a holy pumpkin,” James whined even though he barely felt anything after the second time, secretly loving that Q kept touching his face.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear.”

And finally, the fifth and final game was a scavenger hunt _inside_ the castle. Q was excited about that since he had missed the guided tours due to his job and he was almost bouncing as he waited for the doors to open, stopped only by the fact that he was holding on to James’ arm.

“I can’t imagine how much planning the organizers must have done,” Q said as the two of them walked down the main hall, more interested in the paintings and statues than where their first clue would lead them.

“Maybe not that much,” James said, pointing at what he thought to be an obvious stray cat – or a quarter of a cat; the kitten was beyond tiny – that was defying the laws of physic while lounging on what had to be a priceless sofa. He did not expect Q to abandon his side in favour of running up to said cat and start to gently scratch it under its chin while talking to it much like one would talk to a baby but there he had it. “Duke would be heartbroken right now.”

“Duke is still my favourite but this little killer-machine needs some love too.” James insisted on being offended even more on behalf of Duke for the continued use of baby-talk. That was reserved just for their fur-baby. Then Q pushed the purring beast in his face and gave him his best version of puppy-eyes. “Pet the kitten, James.”

James’ hand shot out and rested on the kitten’s head instantly. However, it seemed that the way he was petting it was wrong because the purring stopped the moment he touched it and two, large blue eyes opened and seemed to stare accusingly at him. “I think this cat just put a curse on me.”

Q elbowed him and clicked his tongue. “James! Don’t be disrespectful.”

“What? I’m not saying that because we’re in Vampire-central but look at it! It obviously hates me,” James insisted, slowly moving to hide behind Q, bringing his chest against his back while resting his hands on his shoulders. The tiny furball didn’t lose him out of its sight for a single moment. “See? It’s glaring at me.”

Chuckling, Q let the kitten get comfortable on his shoulder under the surplice before linking arms with James again. “Don’t worry; as your manager, it is my duty to protect you from everything, even tiny furballs that have claws and teeth.”

They were the last to finish the hunt so whatever shot they might have had for the first-place prize was completely lost, but James forgot all about that. This had turned into a sort of date in a museum – the people placed around the castle to make sure they didn’t touch or steal anything were kind enough to answer Q’s question – which James enjoyed a lot. The kitten did warm up to James by the time they strolled out but sadly, it turned out that it already had a master that cared for it so Q had to return it.

“To be fair, a castle is the only proper place for a cat if you were to ask one,” James joked, gently elbowing Q to try to lift his spirits.

“True,” Q agreed, unconsciously leaning his head on James’ shoulder for a moment as they watched Eve and R being awarded the 1st place trophy and ribbons. His face was flushed from the heat that the giant bonfire lit to signify the end of Halloween and it made him look angelic. “Can you imagine how adorable our Duke would have looked with a tiny kitten napping on his head?”

At the end of the night, from James’ point of view, he and Q were the real winners. 


	20. Real me is much better than dream me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of uncensored porn pic below~
> 
> Art done by our lovely Aliensdoodles so give them love and kudos and wishes of a happy new year~

Q knew right away that he was dreaming. As was the way with these types of dreams that Q had been starting to have, the lighting of the room was romantic and it blended in just perfectly with the slow, muted music that he couldn’t quite make out ringing from somewhere. This time, the bed he was staring at looked exactly like the one he had seen in the castle in Romania and, as expected, James was longing fully naked on top of it and giving him those bedroom eyes Q only saw him unleash when he was posing for a magazine.

Being a dream, Q had lost his trousers and pants somewhere between a blink and a thought and he was sitting on top of ‘the man of his dreams’ wearing only a light blue sweater that matches a certain pair of eyes, rough hands tilting his head back to make it easier for James to bite and nibble on his lips. He was demanding, he was hungry and Q was more than happy to be his meal.

He broke the kiss when he felt the tip of James’ cock tease his hole and he gasped, James biting down on his neck before reclining back in the bed. “My lap was made for you.” It sounded ridiculous enough to be something that the real James would say. It was also said in that way that only James could say something dumb and make it sound hot

Or maybe he thought it was hot because James had started to gently thrust his hips forwards and backwards, sliding more of his needy, throbbing cock in Q and jumbling his brain. Oh, and the feeling he got from it! It was like his insides were made out of jelly and he was gently very slowly nudged towards heaven.

Too slow, Q decided. He wanted more and he wanted it now so he started to bounce up and down, James’ fingers digging into his legs to keep him centred. Both of them had started moaning and whimpering, but James was the loudest one. “Ohhhh, God, Q!”

Q dared to risk opening his eyes and looked down at James, trying to commit to memory his slightly swollen lips, the blush spread over his face, the beads of sweat that slowly rolled down his temples… Was this how James actually looked when he was lost in the throes of passion?

He was jostled out of his thoughts by James suddenly rolling them over and putting his legs over his shoulders, mischievousness flashing in his blue eyes and mixing with the burning lust. He’d also pulled out suddenly, ripping a whimper of disappointment from Q. “That wasn’t the face you were supposed to make while I’m fucking you, Q,” James chided, slowly slipping on hand down his leg and starting to tease the base of his cock. “All frowny and worried, like you’re faced with a work dilemma…”

“Then put your back into it and fuck all proper sense out of me,” Q demanded, wrapping his hands around his cock and starting to pump in synch with James’ thrusts, his voice ringing the loudest this time.

“Q! Are you alright?” James suddenly asked him, the need in his voice replaced by worry, the pleasant and almost animalistic rocking of his hips substituted by the shaking of his shoulders. “Q? Q, wake up!” James insisted and Q’s eyes snapped open, his lust replaced by embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” he grunted out, quickly sitting up as much as he could without bumping his head on the ceiling of his bunk while also bending his legs to cover his erection. “What’s wrong?”

“You were calling out to me, you tell me what’s wrong,” James said gently, pushing the back of his hand against Q’s forehead. “You feel a little warm and I’m sure I felt your heart beating through our bunks; are you in pain?”

“It was a nightmare,” Q said quickly, wanting for nothing more than the bus and ground to split open and swallow him up. He’d never had such a vivid sex-dream in the bus before their one-sided Halloween date. “Just a long, horrible nightmare,” Q insisted. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Just how loud was I? Did I wake the entire bus?” If James said yes, Q would go to the front of the bus and jump out the door while they were still moving.

“I was getting up to drink some water when I heard you,” James assured him, almost caressing his head before disappearing for a moment to come back with an unopened bottle of cold water. “Do you remember what the nightmare was about? I’d hate to think that you’d think me capable of harming you.”

“Not quite but I am sure you were as much of a victim as I was,” Q said after emptying half of the bottle and trying to come up with something. “Dreadfully sorry for worrying you.”

Q hadn’t realized up until James actually started to lounge not five centimetres away from him that he had sat down on his bunk. “Do you want me to sleep with you for the night?” He asked, a huge grin on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Real me is much better than dream me at anything and I promise to keep all your nightmares at bay.”

Kicking James out of the bunk and dumping some of the cold water on his head was the right thing to do. After all, what if his treacherous mind went down the horny road again and this time he woke up dry humping the man while moaning his name? What was he going to do then? Try to convince him that he was dreaming about being chased up a tree by a giant snake?

Still, James looked worried and Q wouldn’t be able to go to sleep for fear of accidentally making another porn movie so… “Sorry to burst your bubble, oh brave knight, but I’m afraid I was planning on playing some games. Naturally, you are free to join me if you want.”

Of course, James did and of course, he woke up being the little spoon to James while James was trying to subtly kick Alec in the shin after apparently having taken a picture with the flash on. And, of course, it had been the best sleep he’d gotten in a while because everything about his body had to be treacherous.


	21. Put some clothes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and kind comments. 
> 
> No art this round and we are also getting to the end.

No job was truly easy. Teachers had to worry for children, bank tellers had to make sure they didn’t lock themselves out of their systems, policemen had to deal with criminals, politicians with that special part of the police that went after them… He didn’t see his job as harder than every other job but every now and then, he swore that being a boffin spy was easier than a band’s manager.

Not all bands were formed of 12-year olds with access to what seemed to them an infinite amount of money and power. Rumours had made it seem like ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ was one such horrible band but, although no a breeze, they were easy to manage and they certainly weren’t the reason why he was finding his job extra hard.

It seemed that, for once, SPECTRE learned something as a company and after Q shot Le Chiffre’s sleazy offer down faster than adulthood the hopes and dreams of everyone who reached it, they started trying to kill him with kindness. A single day didn’t pass in which he received a large bouquet with a card attached that expressed the deepest apologies on earth and every two days, those flowers would be accompanied by an actual gift that ranged from a box of very expensive chocolates to bloody talking microwaves.

Knowing his contract by heart, Q instantly called M to let her know what was happening because he didn’t want to lose his job or be accused of _fraternising with the enemy_. This course of action had amused M and she admitted that not even in her wildest fever-induced nightmares did she see Q betray MI6. Not that he wasn’t capable of doing so and in such a way that they would realize it only when it was too late but his moral compass wouldn’t let him.

“ _I will try to get them to leave you be but even I can’t get that pig-headed man to stop when he’s up to something_ ,” M said honestly, sighing. _“You can keep whatever they give you if you’d like; think of it was you charging them for all the time they make you waste_.”

Q didn’t keep them, of course. The hotel employees also couldn’t keep them so Q reached out to SPECTRE via email and notified them that he planned on donating what they had sent him alongside a pretty sum on behalf of MI6. SPECTRE was forced to also issue a check to make sure that their _donation_ was equal with MI6’s but they assured Q that despite this, they will continue to court him. He did, after all, give them free publicity – the good kind too, so how could they give up on trying getting him?

R found everything very amusing. “The chocolate is very delicious.” She moved the box of imported Belgian chocolates under his nose even if they didn’t smell like anything. “Are you sure you don’t want to try some? I already had half a box so you know they aren’t poisoned so could it be that the only chocolate you want is from a certain—”

“Crossing that line again, Rowan,” Q gently reminded her and supplying her with even more ammo than she had. Still, it wasn’t like she was going to tell anyone and it was getting too hard to not at least admit it. “But yes, you would be right in your accusation if I were to let you complete it.”

Her smile could put the Cheshire cat to shame but it also disappeared as fast as said cat. “I took a chance and I’m happy.”

Without meaning to, his mind went back to the awkward conversation he had with Eve, how tense and cold he had presented himself while making it clear in no uncertain terms that if she was going to do R dirty, he would go after her. Not ruin her career though. Well, he would if it turned out that she was truly despicable and that was when he started babbling. He explained that he was sure she would never do the things that would make her despicable but just in the off chance that he was wrong, he wouldn’t defend her.

Eve took pity on him and stopped him talking by pulling him in a tight hug, promising that she wasn’t the scum of the earth and that should he ever find someone he was interested in, she would be there to give him the proper version of the talk since she had a feeling that R sucked at it as much as he did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Q forced himself to focus on the present. “I am keeping my fingers crossed that nothing bad happens between the two of you because that would make the rest of this tour very awkward. Not to mention that the rest of our collaboration would be…” Q trailed off, feeling a bit bad about forcing R to think of the possibility – small as it was.

Eve was beyond smitten with R. When she looked at R, Q swore that he could see little hearts floating around her head. He had never heard them have a serious fight, just small disagreements that were quickly resolved and that usually ended with the two of them disappearing somewhere to further cement their relationship. Eve even started posting little hints about who it was that stole her heart across her social medial accounts, making it clear that if anyone were to harass ‘them’ or out who ‘they’ were before ‘they’ were comfortable with being shown to the world, Eve would personally ban the people who did that from all things related to her and the band.

Alec and James made sure to let the fans know that they stood by Eve’s promise as did Q and the rest of MI6. Then almost every person in the limelight chimed in with their support so really, did ‘Shaken, not Stirred’ need a manager by this point?

“Your job is a sad one,” R said with more than a bit of ice in her voice, obviously offended by what Q was implying.

Q frowned, mulling over what James had said when he got frustrated over something that was supposed to bring him joy and help him relax. “Maybe I am sadder than my job, R, since I let it influence every moment of my life.” He made R feel bad and that wasn’t his intention at all. “That said, please know that I have the utmost faith that the two of you will make it work. Please don’t ask me to apply the same faith to my own love life at this time.”

R moved around the table to give him a tight hug. “If it helps, you two make the most adorable adoptive parents to a dog ever.”

It did and it didn’t but Q didn’t have too much time to linger on that as SPECTRE continued to drown him in all sorts of gifts, even after the tour had resumed. Except now it was even more frustrating because they got mixed in with all the gifts various companies, would-be sponsors, and fans – both of the regular and rich kind – sent the band.

“Maybe you should make it clear that you’re not interested,” James said after one concert, no doubt bored out of his mind listening to him grumble under his breath while he sorted everything into three separate piles.

“They took it as a challenge to prove that there’s something in this world that I can’t say no to,” Q said, sighing. “Heaven help us if I find house keys because I have no idea how I could get rid of something like that, dumb as it sounds.”

James made a noise that sounded very much like the kind of growl an angry wolf would let and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not just ask people to sort them out as they get delivered? And maybe think about getting a restraining order?”

Finally done, Q sat up and made to grab the three large bags that he had stuffed with perishables SPECTRE sent him before James picked them up for him. “Thank you and I think it would be impossible to get one,” he answered James’ question, chuckling at the thought of how crazy the reporters would get if he even attempted to be the first man in history to get a restraining order against a corporation.

James’ mood only got darker. “This should be sufficient proof that you are being harassed by whoever they are if you told them to stop.”

“And how many restraining orders do you guys have against all the talent agencies that want to sign you up the second your current MI6 contract expires?” Seeing that James looked confused, Q realized that there was a misunderstanding. “SPECTRE is going out of its way to convince me to switch masters – Le Chiffre’s words, not mine.”

Another growl but the bags were thankfully not thrown across the street. “I haven’t checked my bank accounts in a while but I’m sure that I can buy you a few castles if you want. Proper ones too, with moats filled with hungry alligators and small villages around them.”

Q snorted. “I’m not entirely sure I’d know how to govern a small country so I will pass, but thank you for the offer. I’ll also pass on _just_ the castles,” Q quickly added before James could make an updated offer. “My apartment is big enough for me, myself, and I so no need to worry that I’d leave you for that.”

He did not expect James’ next question. They had come to a stop close enough to the bus to be on it in just a few steps should an eager hoard of fans appear out of nowhere but still far away that no one could hear what they were talking about. “Would you leave me for anything?”

If there was ever an ‘ _it’_ moment then there was no doubt that Q was experiencing one. James had drawn closer as if inviting Q to do the same. And how easy it would have been for him to tip just a bit forward and lock lips with James, taste to see if that expensive scotch he sipped had become a part of him… He was technically off duty, the concert feeling like nothing more than a hazy memory from a torrid dream.

“Security says that if we don’t leave now, the bus will be surrounded by a rather large group of fans who want more,” reality crashed upon their private universe with the voice of Eve who, upon actually looking in their direction, she looked apologetic.

Of course, now that there was suddenly enough distance between the two of them for a car to pass and Q had been temporarily jostled out of that tiredness that made him _imagine_ things, he couldn’t understand the remorsefulness in her eyes. “You’ve all got a busy day tomorrow and you need your rest,” Q said as he quickly entered the bus, missing the hard glare James sent Eve and her whispered apology. “Alec, I know Russia is your motherland but it _is_ winter so could you please put some clothes on? Your lips are practically blue and I can hear your teeth clattering from over here.”


	22. Drama Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No art for this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos once again :)

Two shows away from the finish line, bloody stubborn bastard Alec managed to catch a cold just as Q had prophesied. It wasn’t a severe cold and Alec wallowed in self-pity and tossed in his bunk and groaned more because he thought himself to have gone soft than genuine discomfort. James was sure that Alec could walk it off, especially since Russia was a huge country and they were roughly about 4 days away from the city they were supposed to play in and 6 from the actual concert but as far as Q was concerned, the cold meant that Alec was on his deathbed and acted accordingly. R shared Q’s convictions and Pierce was also secretly a worrywart when it came to Alec, though was quite good at covering it up.

Then again, Alec was the most accident-prone out of all of them – even more so this year – so Pierce was probably conditioned by now to assume the worst when it came to him.

Alec was not helping at all with his moans. “I am going to die,” he cried as he grabbed onto the doctor’s arm, his English buried under such a thick with a Russian accent that you’d think he just learned the language.

“Surely you know by now how dramatic Alec can be,” Pierce said as soon as they were sure that the scenery-chewing performance was over, seemingly not bothered about being trapped by Alec.

Q snorted. “I’m worried, not born yesterday.” He waited for R to pull out one of the three different thermometers they were using to monitor Alec’s well-being. “His temperature went up with almost half a degree in the last 8 hours.”

“He is supposed to take medicine every 8 hours so it’s perfectly normal for the temperature to go back up at the start of the treatment when the pill’s effect wears off,” Pierce reminded Q and maybe himself. “Just continue to make sure he takes his pills when he’s supposed to, that he stays hydrated and that you keep those two,” he didn’t bother to point at James and Eve but he did send a glare in their direction, “at a safe distance from him. I can easily name three managers that quit because of how horrible it was to have all three of them sick at the same time.”

In their defence, those managers hated them before they got sick and they just decided to give them that final push out of their lives when they were needed the most – though James knew that he wasn’t exactly a peach when he felt like he was on Death’s door. Yet, as he watched Q annoy Alec into letting Pierce spoon-feed him his chicken soup and shooing R into the bathroom to wash her hands before she got handy with Eve when she ‘thought they couldn’t be seen’, he was sure he’d do his best not to make things harder for Q.

Q frowned for a moment and then nodded and James worried for that short period of silence that he agreed wholeheartedly that they were hard to handle. “Yes, a good idea. Their immune systems might be weaker and I don’t want them to end up in a hospital. If Alec agrees, of—”

“Only if I can call them by my side when I _die_ ,” Alec interrupted though, despite his grim prediction, he was already on his feet, packing a small bag. “I will also need a lawyer to make my last will and testament.” He stopped suddenly and turned, blocked from hugging Q by the patient doctor. 

“You are not dying and you aren’t getting your manager sick either,” Pierce deadpanned, pointing to his back. “Now finish packing so you can go to my bus while the medicine is still keeping the soreness and headaches away.”

It was strange to see Alec following Pierce’s instruction with so much eagerness. Up until this tour, the two always butted heads, Alec insisting that everything was a scratch and that a kiss from a pretty nurse was all that he needed while Pierce threw his hands up in frustration before starting to rant about injections and how amputations changed one’s life for good. He even remembered Pierce dragging a limping Alec away one night after a particularly bad fall that also resulted in a nasty scrape to show him a gruesome documentary about how those were done back in the First World War.

He supposed that Alec had also matured, like the rest of them but he didn’t know if Q was the one who should be praised for that or if the inevitable finally happened. M did constantly say that sooner or later, they would get bored of acting like a bunch of teenagers who tasted the cheapest booze for the first time in their lives. James always assumed that it would be later and yet there they all were, wearing masks because Q told them and not touching even the weakest bottle of alcohol they had because it wouldn’t be fair towards Alec. 

“I’ll keep you constantly updated about him, do not worry Mr Boothroyd,” Pierce was saying, ignoring Alec’s please to be picked up and carried on to the other bus. “Let me know if anyone else develops cold symptoms.”

James perked up at that, plotting for a moment to act sick just to be allowed to use Q’s lap as a pillow and to have him feed him. But only for a moment, realizing on his own - even before Eve's perfectly manicured and very sharp nails embedded themselves in his arm because she knew him all too well - that it was a horrible, creepy idea that would more than anger Q when it inevitably came to light that he was faking it.

“We’ll make sure to continue to dress properly and to drink those horrid smoothies that are supposed to keep our immune systems up and running,” James spoke up, ignoring Alec’s protests that he - as someone born in Russia - had done the same before getting sick but it was just his own country rejecting him. 

Q flashed him a proud smile before going to help Alec with the move, assuring him in a hushed voice tone that even the most Russian or Russians would have gotten sick if they ran around dressed like him. Other managers would have maybe tried for a total of five minutes to lay Alec’s genuine worry to rest for before suggesting something idiotic like advertise vodka when, in fact, Alec’s problem was more complex.

Alec both loved and hated his country. He did not agree with the way its people were being treated, openly backing up multiple human rights organizations and blacklisting a lot of Russian companies that treated its employees as sub-humans. At the same time, he loved the food, the tradition, the closeness of people as well as how strong they remained despite the constant hardships they were going through. 

“Does Alec have any relatives that he’s still close to in Russia?” Q suddenly, stopping mid-keyboard tap to look up at James. He looked _embarrassed_ like how dare he have to ask this after spending almost a year living with them.

In turn, James felt embarrassed that he also didn’t know anything about Q’s family. Sure, he knew that he played the violin, that he loved cats – but no more than Duke – that he was a workaholic and a worrywart that couldn’t cook to save his life but that had an excellent palate, that he liked dogs and black tea and sappy romances and spy novels, and also that he was grumpy in the morning, but did he really know anything about him? Were his parents still alive? Did he have any siblings? What was his favourite place? What about his favourite season? He struck him as the kind of man who loved spring and autumn because he could wear his most colourful, fluffy sweater but what if he was only pale because he worked so much? 

They talked a lot about nothing. Or rather, he asked Q questions about nothing substantial.

“There’s an old aunt that would try to fatten you up the second she laid eyes on you,” answered Eve as she started to look through her phone, crouching down a little to give R better access to wrapping her wet hair in a towel. “And yes, she does like our songs and she is a bit hard of hearing so she doesn’t mind being present at a live show if you are planning on reuniting the two of them.”

“Excellent,” cried Q, bringing his hands together in front of him before suddenly turning to James, looking very serious. “No stripping or air-sex for the next live, got it? And don’t ruin the surprise for Alec.” James made a lazy cross sign over his heart with one finger and Q jumped next to Eve, nodding feverishly to what she was telling him.

How was it possible for him to fall even more in love with Q? And why was it happening to him when the occasional giggles at his phones and multiple selfies with his tongue sticking out made it clear that he was in a relationship? Was it a good idea to follow advice from _Seinfeld_ out of all things?

“And it’s going to be perfect because we have two free days before your next show so he can enjoy some time with her,” Q was saying and James got his answers.

That advice had to be the worst advice ever received by anyone but he was hooked on _Q_ so down the rabbit hole he would continue to go until he was outright told that he wasn’t wanted. As to what would happen after that…Well, there was a lot of inspiration to be found in heartbreak and – strangely enough – he was content to be miserable if Q was happy.


	23. Your phone will shut down in 30 seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I guess you can say that something wicked this way comes.

Russia was one of those countries that made Q nervous. By all intents and purposes, there was nothing inherently wrong with Russia. You had access potable water, food, warmth, internet, cable and so on and so forth which was something expected of a first world country but the laws didn’t quite fit with the centuries they were in. So Q was worried. For himself, for the band, for the crewmembers that travelled with them.

They were better protected because of their status, though the Russian government made sure to ban them from the very conservative cities and the cities that held strategic importance to them but that weren’t known by ‘tourists’. They were also given a rather large security detail that Q was sure wasn’t there to protect them as much as the government’s version of Russian ideals.

He also worried for Alec when it came to his old aunt. According to Eve and James, the two hadn’t seen each other in a long time despite Alec constantly planning to spend an entire vacation together but never going through with them because things constantly happened – either to him or to her. It made perfectly good sense if she had changed from the darling woman they all remembered to someone who was very against his lifestyle. Thank God that didn’t turn out to be the case.

Alec’s aunt was that cool little old lady who would let you throw parties at her house and lie to your overprotective parents about it. She was also the cool little old lady with the bag full of sweets and with a bag full of actual cooked food which got dumped on Q the second she saw how thin he was and with Alec’s blessing.

“Is he thin because you’re a troublemaker?” She asked she was done hugging and kissing Alec’s cheeks between pinches, holding her handbag like she was getting ready to smack him upside the head if he confirmed her suspicions.

“ _Starushka_ , you know I would never—”

“Don’t lie to me, Aldokim Aleksandr Aleksi Turgenev,” his aunt interrupted him and even though she was a good two heads and a half shorter than him, made Alec flinch. “Don’t think that just because you huge guitar player I can’t pull you over my knee and give you a good spanking. Might get pretty lover for you if your behind bigger, no? Maybe manager finds you cute, yes?” She continued to ask, wiggling her eyebrows and gently elbowing Q who, at this point, could have easily been lost in a field of ripe tomatoes.

Alec groaned so hard that Q swore he turned into a teenager for a moment. “ _Starushka,_ please! Remember that we talked about how it’s bad to assume something like that about people?” Starushka muttered something in Russian under her breath before lethargically nodding. “Sorry, Q. She wants me to find a good _whatever_ and finally settle down”

Starushka leaned closer to Q. “Prefer doctor but manager good too.”

“Starushka,” Alec said in what was probably meant to be a warning voice but came out as yet another whine.

“Shutting up,” she said before topping what was on Q’s plate. “Poor boy so thin name is letter. Bring Q next summer to fatten up, da?” She then caught sight of Eve and R, and she had an amused glint in her eyes for the fraction of a second it took them to stop holding hands. Q thought she was going to call attention to them, but she didn’t. She acted like she had seen nothing and pulled Eve in a tight hug as she kissed her cheeks, letting her lead the conversation and gushing over her new tattoos.

She was the first person outside of the group that made Q feel warm and safe. And that was where he made his mistake. Not in liking or trusting Alec’s Starushka. She was exactly as she seemed and it wasn’t because she got him to lower his shields. He just _forgot_ to pay attention to where he was going and how many rights and lefts he was taking while making his way to the cake shop near the hotel and he got lost.

No worries, he told himself. His phone had GPS and… The battery was dead, great. Well, he could use Google Translate to—No, he couldn’t because his phone was dead. Retracing his steps was also out of the question because _he didn’t pay_ _attention_ and the people around looked scared and weren’t quite as subtle as they thought they were with how interesting they found the ground while walking around him.

He even tried asking a cab driver but the second the man saw that he was walking towards him with an obvious intention to engage him in a conversation, he sped out of there like the devil himself was on his tail.

It was amusing that the saying ‘they are more afraid of you than you are of them’ could be applied in this case but Q focused more on being upset at his own stupidity. He always made sure to have one of the guys grab a physical copy of a map in whatever city they were in if he wasn’t with them just in the off chance that their phones died and there was him, getting even more lost than before because he didn’t follow his own advice.

Their hotel couldn’t be distinguished from the other buildings as all of them were grand, and they all shared the same colour, the same height, and after circling back to the are Q thought he came from, he found that a lot of the buildings he was seeing had something written on it in large, golden letters – it was a magnificent city, just like all the others Q had seen in Russia but Christ did he want to kick himself for getting lost in it by accident.

“Did you rethink our offer?” Safin’s voice came out of nowhere, scaring Q out of his skin. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” Q said after he made sure that his heart was still in his chest. “I just didn’t expect to bump into you…” He trailed off and frowned. “What are you doing here? And no, I didn’t change my mind.”

Safin smiled and Q found that eerie. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to pull a Le Chiffre. We are shooting a video one block away but I think the real question is what are you doing here, all alone? Not to sound creepy, but your hotel is half a town that way,” he said, mildly amused as he pointed behind Q.

“You’re never too old to get lost, especially if your phone is dead,” Q admitted, a little embarrassed.

Safin chuckled, taking out his phone. “Do you want to call someone or do you want me to help you get back to your hotel?”

There was something off about Safin. He seemed to be calmer and more collected than the others – Q would go as far as to say that he was even more mature – but there was an air of eeriness about him. Q couldn’t help but compare seeing him to seeing a lake that looked shallow only to be deep and full of dangerous creatures that were waiting for unsuspecting victims to be dumb enough to try to swim in the deceptively calm waters.

At the same time, did he have any other choice but to take a dip in this lake? Safin was the only one acting like a proper human and Q was lost and if the last time his team lost sight of him any indication, the faster he got back to the hotel, the fewer people had reported him missing to the UK consulate and the cops.

“I will make it my goal to learn a few numbers by heart but for now I can only accept your offer to walk me back to my hotel,” Q said awkwardly, taking a step to the side to let Safin take the lead after telling him the hotel’s name.

They walked in silence with a respectful distance between them, Safin glancing in his direction every so often like he was making sure that he was still there but otherwise keeping his nose buried in his phone, a faint robotic voice coming from the earbud he was using.

Q was satisfied with this silence, tense at first when he started to follow Safin but the more familiar the streets started to look, the more relaxed he got. He knew Safin wouldn’t do anything to him though not because he didn’t think he couldn’t.

“They don’t take good care of you,” Safin started to suddenly talk, corner of his lips twitching upwards for a fraction of a second when he saw Q getting startled. “Your band, I mean. I wouldn’t be okay with letting you go out in the middle of the night in a country whose language you don’t know without at least a backup phone if not a bodyguard directly.”

So many alarms were going off in Q’s head and so many red flags were jumping up around Safin that Q not bolting away was a testament that people could be extremely dumb outside of horror movies as well as proof that social conventions were the best trap. “The same could be said about you.”

Safin snorted, thrusting his finger over his shoulder. “That back there lingering in the shadows is Ivan and this right here,” he gently patted his left trouser pocket, “is my backup phone. The GPS function is on both my phones and I assure you that Ivan is a living GPS with his own digital GPS attached to him.”

That managed to make Q feel less secure and not to judge a book by his cover, but Ivan looked like the type of person who stuffed bloody duffle bags in his trunk. But Q was more focused on his need to defend his band. “They didn’t know I left.”

“Oh, you needed to get away from them?” Clearly, Q didn’t think this through. “I won’t judge you, don’t worry. My uncle is very immature and a handful.”

Q stopped dead in his tracks. “Your uncle?”

“Bond,” Safin said without missing a beat, grabbing Q’s hand. “The streets are tricky even with a GPS so we best stay close to each other or else I’ll have to get Ivan to send a search party for you.”

Q was in shock. “James is your uncle? How old are you? Does that mean that Blofeld is… your father?”

“Yes, 25, and yes he is. He had me when he was very young or else I’d be a different age and Christ! Your hand is colder than ice.” He tugged Q closer and put his arm around his shoulders before slipping his gloves on his hands. “I’ll send over a proper jacket for this climate and don’t worry; it’s not a bribe to get you to work with us or anything. _Le Chiffre_ made sure that wasn’t going to happen unless hell freezes over.”

How Q could feel colder? “I have a proper jacket – which James bought for me, by the way – so no need for you to bother. I honestly stepped outside just to buy something really quick.”

Safin shrugged, stopping suddenly. “Hey, I believe you. Still not something smart on my uncle’s end given that Alec knows Russian but what am I to do other than to deliver you back to safety?”

Q caught himself starting to agree with what Safin was implying and started to laugh, taking two large steps away from him. “Wow, you will make an excellent corporate-shark. I will be really shocked if you don’t inherit SPECTRE in a few years after your father disappears mysteriously mid-flight to some island that’s a known embezzling heaven.”

Safin’s face distorted when he smiled this time and somehow Q knew that this was an honest show of amusement. “I am better at temptation than pretty much anyone else you might know though, right?” Q didn’t say anything and Safin clicked his tongue, switching from amusement to annoyance. “Well, you are welcome anyway.” He took a bow and snapped his fingers, Ivan pulling up next to him in a black Mercedes. “Do tell my dear uncle to keep a closer eye on his precious things unless he wants to lose them for good.”

Before Q could process what had happened and accept that he didn’t fall asleep somewhere on the street and just finished having a delirious dream as because he was close to freezing to death, two strong – and familiar – arms wrapped themselves around him and he found himself in a tight hug as James’ warm breath warmed his ears. “The UK ambassador is upstairs, throwing a fit at the chief of police and you’re here, safe and with all your organs.”

Q was all too aware that this was the second time he had accidentally pulled a disappearance act and it made his insides turn and twist with guilt. Even worse than the fact that he had made James and the rest worry was that he might have just inadvertently caused an international incident.

“I’m stupid but fine,” Q rushed to assure James once the man had pulled away and started to closely inspect his face and arms, calling Pierce over. “I wanted to buy something, got lost but…” He trailed off just as James noticed the gloves that weren’t his. “Your nephew found me and brought me back.”

James frowned and slipped his jacket over Q before gently ushering him into the hotel. “I was sure you knew that certain staff in this hotel only have jobs because they get sent out to run errands for the guests.”

“I wanted to do something nice,” Q said half-heartedly, feeling incredibly stupid. Again, it wasn’t like him to have this huge lapse in judgement, but it was like all the stars had aligned, so all the bad things that could happen did happen. It was a miracle that no paparazzi sneaked a picture of him and Safin. “I’ll get the hot tub started while Pierce makes sure you don’t have any bite frost.”

Of course, he didn’t but he let Pierce tell James and the ambassador – who had sweated through his suit – that. He was just tired, cold, and understandably stressed so a dip in the tub and a good massage was the perfect medicine. Q had thought – hoped – that James would be the one to give him that massage but James had booked a professional for that.

“Nothing but the best for my manager,” he had said seriously which made brought the tension right back between Q’s shoulders since Safin’s stings were echoing in the back of his mind. It did not go unnoticed. “Did I say or do anything wrong?”

“No,” Q said quickly. “Safin’s just better than I thought,” he added under his breath before flashing James a smile. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you asked M for a new manager, but I would be grateful if nothing gets dumped on my head.”

James looked pissed. “Clearly you bumped your head pretty bad because I have never heard you say something as stupid as that. Come to think of it, you do a lot of stupid things.” He made to say something else but he quickly shut his mouth and took a deep breath, slumping on the sofa next to the massage table. “We’re taking off tomorrow at 1 PM, right?”

“Right,” Q said quietly and that was all the words they exchanged that night.


	24. Have a good day, Mr Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-DUUUUN

This was it. After this final grand performance at the Wimbledon concert Hall, their European tour would come to an end with a bang and all of them would be allowed a proper period of rest before going for the rest of the world. Normally, this final show would imbue James with all the energy in the world and it would be impossible to keep him still long enough to get him into clothes.

But that wasn’t the case this time.

The _Russian_ incident was barely 48 hours in the past and James wasn’t in a good mood. His lack of communication skills when it came to proper feelings that went beyond friendship and a long string of toxic romances combined with the pure fear that someone might have kidnapped Q that night and he was stupid. He snapped at Q then silently sulked and fumed for snapping at him until Q very awkwardly went to his own room and while James had spent most of the night coming up with a speech to explain himself while they returned home, Q was not all there because they were in a fucking aeroplane and Q had a flying phobia.

He did his best to be graceful when he got out of the aeroplane but James had counted at least three different pills that Q took so he stumbled like a toddler taking its first steps. James made to go help him, finding it to be the perfect time to ask him to recover over at his mansion so he could properly apologize for everything. Hell, Duke probably missed Q’s expert belly rugs and the puppy – though no longer a tiny furry bean – was sure to make it easier for Q to forgive him. A faceless MI6 minion that was waiting on the tarmac beat him to it, however, and then they got swarmed by reporters.

R made sure the interviews were short but someone had already intercepted Q – a tall man in an anorak. That had to be the boyfriend and it made sense that the man would greet him at the airport. But he still did it wrong, in James’ opinion.

He knew Q loved chocolates so he should have arrived carrying a large box of the most expensive ones on the market since they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. Q was also really into his job so he should have waited to be introduced to the band – this was also because James wanted to size the man up and decide how many bones he would need to break. Q also liked cats so maybe show up with a plush of one if not the actual thing

Plus, how dare he make Q walk in the condition he was in? He didn’t expect the man to carry Q bridal-style out of there, but at least offer to support his weight!

“James, Q will meet with us tomorrow,” R said carefully, softly touching his arm to make sure that he was paying attention to her. “Remember when he explained that everyone will be checked in at the Ritz London for this last concert to make things easier back when the tour started?” Vaguely but he still nodded. He needed this conversation to be over so he could go brood in peace. “Q’s apartment is ten minutes away from your hotel. He texted everyone his address just in case something comes up. Anyway, it didn’t make sense—”

“No problem,” James interrupted R with perhaps a bit too much coldness in his voice that got R not only to glare at him but also to growl a warning. “I’ve got a headache,” he lied and then breezed past Pierce who was already digging through his bag for some pills and slumped into the car.

Pierce strongly suggested that he used the day to sleep and, for once and without Q’s insistence, James intended to do just that. He thanked the young bellboy for caring his bags and quickly drawing the drapes shut to keep any light from slipping into the room, tipped him with money and his autograph and then crawled in the king-sized bed.

Naturally, though he was tired, his thoughts made it hard for him to fall asleep right away so he pulled out his phone intending to fuck around on various sites until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. But that was when he noticed that quite a few of his most recent messaged on Twitter had a link in common. He knew right away that whatever his fans were sharing with him wouldn’t be good news but at the same time, he wasn’t all that worried.

He wasn’t racist therefore he never said racist things. He knew what ‘no’ meant, kids were kids, and he had so much money that he didn’t know what to do with it outside of anonymously donating it. So, nothing to worry about so many people sending him the one link.

And yet…

He felt a ball of ice form in his stomach after he clicked on one of the links, his heart beating faster as he waited for the page to open only to suddenly stop when it fully loaded. When his brain fully processed what he was looking at, James felt _betrayed_ and _alone_ , even more so then when he caught his ex-wives in bed with other men. He even clutched at his chest and bent over, finally throwing the phone away because he just couldn’t stare at his scum of a step-nephew with his arm around Q’s shoulders. The picture below that showed the two of them holding hands made him feel like he wanted to puke, especially since he recognized Q’s clothes and he knew when that had happened. He knew that while he was worrying himself into an international scandal, Q was being romantic with _Safin_.

So James did what he usually did when his heart got broken. He drank. And drank. And drank until all his horrible ideas seemed like good ideas so he saw no reason not to treat Q like the scum of the earth he perceived him as in his intoxicated state.

Everyone was instantly aware that something was off about him – and that he was close to being ‘piss drunk’. “Is everything okay?” R asked awkwardly, eyeing the 5th bottle of beer that he had opened.

“Peachy,” James growled, daring her to bring the bottle into the discussion.

She probably would have as she had a backbone and a strong sense of professionalism but Eve beat her to it. “Then what the hell is up with all the drinking?”

“I’m nervous all of a sudden, so drop it,” James growled.

Even didn’t want to do that but R’s hand gently resting on her shoulder got her to shut up and sit back. James wanted to mock her about being pussy-whipped but couldn’t because had Q been there in the car with them and not betraying them to Safin, he would have followed his every word.

Speaking of Q, he was waiting for them in front of the backdoor, huge bags under his eyes, less pale but still sickly-looking, and forcing himself to smile. All because he didn’t want them to worry about him still being affected by the long Russian night and shaky flight or because he didn’t want them to know that _Safin_ kept him from getting proper rest? Probably the latter, his drunk brain whispered and James was quick to agree.

Before Q even thought about opening his mouth to greet them, James snapped at him. “Why are you wearing those hideous clothes instead of your stage outfit?” His outfit was anything but horrid but the more attracted James felt to Q, the more hatred formed in his muddled mind and aching heart. “You’re expected to show up on stage with us at the end of the show and you can’t show up like that,” James continued before Q could say anything and pushed past him, making sure to never stay in one place for too long because he really didn’t want to talk with anyone.

He crossed paths with Q moments before he was expected to go on stage and, although _someone_ had sent word to all the team to spirit away any and all bottles of alcohol, James still had managed to get his hands on a couple of strong ones so his thinking was still muddled and his mouth-filter still out of commission.

Q, for his part, had reverted to looking _fully_ exhausted and James wondered if maybe Q had been the one running around the backstage, chucking away the alcohol. Yet when he talked, his voice was still strong and imposing, a complete opposite of his usual soft, almost dream-like voice.

In short, Q was pissed that James was acting like a petulant teenager. “I thought it was clear I am here to help you with everything,” he started, hands on his hips. “And if you’re going through something that I can’t comprehend, I can look for an expert, make them sign so many NDAs that his ghost wouldn’t able to reveal whatever it is that he’s helping you with, and not judge you.”

In hindsight, this was when James should have outright ask Q what the deal was with Safin and show him the pictures. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked Q up and down and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Make sure you get that makeup reapplied; I can tell the lip ring is fake.” 

Q sighed in disappointment, shaking his head. “So you choose ‘childish fit’ over ‘mature adult conversation’, fine. Just go out there and do your best but keep in mind that at the first sign of you tripping due to alcohol replacing your blood, I will pull the plug.”

Petty to the end and hell-bent on getting the last word in, James managed to slip one more ridiculous demand before running away from the situation. “Just make sure I have rice M&Ms before I step off this stage. Oh and you best go out and buy them yourself or else M and the world is going to hear about what a horrible manager you are, _Boothroyd_. I doubt that .you’d have been a good boffin but it certainly would have spared me the headache of having to work with you.”

He missed the devastated look Q had after having his last name spat in his face like it was the most disgusting thing in the world which is why his pants were so tight. It seemed that he wasn’t drunk enough not to get a boner or upset enough not to be horny when Q snapped at him.

“Good evening, London. I hope you’re as excited to be here as I am,” he purred into the microphone and sent the already excited crowd into a screaming frenzy that forced them to wait five minutes before they could actually start playing.

As usual, the show went without a hitch. Well, mostly. The original intention was to drag Q onto the stage and have the whole world bow before him, but R signalled that it couldn’t be done. James internally flinched as, by the time it ended – after two guitar solos, two drum solos, one bout of James doing a pretty good job imitating an opera singer, and one encore – he was sober and regretting the entire day. No headache yet but also no memory lapse so that meant that he had to apologize to Q and James thought that the best way to start doing that was with a joke.

“Pretty sure I asked for the Milky Way Stars, not this dental nightmare.” He honestly thought the wink and the smirk that accompanied the words made it more than clear that not only he wasn’t being serious but that he was also sober.

Q was not in a joking mood. He was out of breath, his hair was damp, and he was shivering so when he heard that, he threw the large shopping bag at his head and stormed out, James hot on his heels.

“Q, I was joking—”

“I spent four _bloody_ hours running around to find a _bloody_ store that’s still open and that had your _bloody_ M&Ms,” Q hissed, easily dodging everyone in his way. “After all my hard work, you couldn’t be respectful enough to just fire me or ask me to quit without being cruel for shits and giggles.”

James managed to grab hold of Q’s arm and stop him just as he was about to go through the exit door. “Q, you know that I don’t want you to actually get me anything, right?”

Q used so much force to pull his hand free that he almost fell back against the door. “I’m not as big of an idiot as you think I am, _Mister Bond_.” His voice shook and his lower lip quivered. “And although apparently, I’m a subpar manager, never until today did I actually _regret_ becoming one.”

James only became aware of the silence after the heavy metal door was slammed in his face and it took Alec hissing his name to get him to run after him, the cold raindrops that pelted his face stinging even more when he took into consideration that he had made Q run around in this weather in nothing more than a tank top and tight leather trousers.

“I was stupid,” he called out, relaxing when he saw Q stopping dead in his tracks. He foolishly thought that things would be that easy so he kept on talking, slowly advancing on Q with the full intention to pull him in a hug and make him thoroughly apologize. “Stupid and drunk, so please just ignore everything I said. You’re the best manager that has ever existed and you look good in anything so why don’t we get you changed back in your own, comfortable and dry clothes?”

Q’s wet tank top hit James faster than his glare and now he was topless and openly shivering as the storm grew more violent. “I’ll mail you the trousers back, don’t worry.” A black car had pulled up at the alley’s entrance and the driver that was rushing over to them took off his puffy jacket and draped it around Q’s shoulders.

The man was slightly taller than Q, just as lankly and there was something very familiar about his face. The anger in his eyes was also very familiar but Q was holding him back from giving James the punch that he deserved.

“Q—”

“Have a good day, _Mister Bond_ ,” Q coldly cut him off before turning away from James and quickly getting into the car.

The last sight he had with Q was with him burying his face in his hands as his entire body shook and James was sure that he had started to cry. And only now did the nausea and the headache settle.


	25. Forgetting to make the soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait.
> 
> No art but we are one chapter away from the end.
> 
> Please enjoy~

Sleep had avoided him for two whole days and not even Duke could cheer him up. James just sat in his bed, going over all the mistakes he’d made as he meticulously put together an apology speech. So far, he was on page twenty and he was still talking about how wrong he’d been to show up piss-drunk. It would have probably taken him two more days to finish with putting everything in writing – which would also coincide with the exact day the custom-made violin he’d ordered would be delivered.

However, his original plan changed when Eve accidentally mentioned that Q was ill. R might have been treating him in the most professional way possible, not talking to him beyond greeting him if she could but her relationship with Eve hadn’t been affected by his immeasurable stupidity – thankfully – and Eve and Alec, though both still pissed at him and dropping not-so-subtle hints about the horrible way he was going to die if Q didn’t forgive him, still considered him their friend so they _talked_.

The second James heard that Q was ill, he was dressed and out of the house, Duke in tow, ringing phone ignored. He wasn’t going to pester the man. He was just going to drop off things that will help make him better and soup—

James almost hit the brakes. “I forgot to make the bloody soup,” he told Duke who was much too occupied to look out the window and wag his tail to understand the gravity of the situation. “Q wouldn’t forget to make the soup or to remind me not to forget to make the soup,” he continued to mutter under his breath, Duke’s attention shifting to him as he started to bark and wag his tail even harder at the mention of his other dad. “Yes, Duke, we’re going to Q’s apart—”

He stopped talking suddenly and quickly pulled out of traffic and parked on the side of the road so he could hit his head against the wheel a few times to see if he could hear an echo or feel something small jiggle in there. Duke did not like that and he whimpered and tried to lick him a few times until he got him to stop, moment in which he sneaked between him and the wheel like he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hit his head again.

James wrapped his arms around Duke and hugged him, silently lamenting not only his stupidity but also his bad luck. He was not going to bother asking what he did to deserve this because he knew the answer to that. Hell, he deserved much worse but did things have to be this hard when he was trying to make amends?

Duke huffed right in James’ face and the strong smell of dog food brought his private pity party to an end. “Christ, I need to start washing your teeth,” James declared, gently pushing Duke to the seat next to him. “But I got your second message loud and clear and I’ll focus on fixing the problem instead of crying about it.”

But how to fix it? Alec would have less of a reason to tell him, Eve wouldn’t tell him because she’d get in a fight with R, R sure as hell wasn’t going to part with that private information, M would teleport next to him and make him eat his own balls and tongue because she was already suspecting that he had done something bad, it was said that M’s new assistant was so paranoid about the type of information people asked of him that he’d been admonished three times for not answering the questions he was supposed to answer, Pierce would probably give him the address of either a psychiatrist or a mental institution and Q was the last person on earth that would give him his address.

Probably because he was the last person on earth that Q wanted to see while he was sick so maybe this was a sign. Maybe a simple text message wishing him a speedy recovery followed by a summary of his apology and then a plea to be allowed to apologize once more to his face was the best he could do right now.

By all logic, the novel idea was an excellent one and it probably tied as his best one with all the times he opted to make his wives sign prenups and when he divorced them. It was also an idea that was discarded faster than he got it since, the moment he picked up his phone and scrolled down to text Q, he saw the Holy Grail of messages: Q’s home address down to the name of his building’s doorman.

“We’re back in business, Duke,” James announced proudly, carefully going back into traffic and actually feeling happy.

He made a few quick stops, careful to wear as much as he could to not be recognized but to also avoid being mistaken for a robber and paying more than he should to ensure that at least the servers who did recognize him by the name on his credit cards wouldn’t reveal to the world what he was doing. He also respected every traffic law, so much so that one cop pulled him over to make sure that it was really him behind the wheel and not a thief – yes, he had _that_ many warnings and paid tickets.

The rain stopped and the sun almost broke through the thick, dark clouds that still ruled the city just as he finished his final errand which James took as a good omen. He also thought he might have an issue with keeping Duke distracted long enough to safely deposit the boiling pot of chicken soup in the trunk but the second he got close to the car, Duke was suddenly interested in its hood.

He sniffed at it while very slowly and carefully circling it. After securing the soup, James joined in inspecting his car, tugging the leash back when Duke suddenly jumped on the hood, afraid that he might get attacked or exploded. Those old ‘soldier instincts’ had kicked in and he was taking everything into consideration. Except for what really popped out.

The head of a very cold and very scared kitten.

Now that he had a table of reference, he understood that the one back at the castle was, indeed, well taken care of. He gently tugged on Duke’s leash when he got too close to the poor thing, more afraid that he’d accidentally inhale it if he sniffed around it too hard than that he’d eat it or get fleas from it.

He hadn’t been in the restaurant for long enough for the engine to cool off so it made sense that the poor thing had taken refuge there. He looked around to see if the kitten’s mother was anywhere before plucking the fragile thing from the hood and hiding it in his breast’s pocket, deciding to add one more stop before his final destination.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot across from Q’s building, his feet turned to lead and his throat dried while his palms got sweaty. Duke had become very energetic the second the engine stopped and he kept pawing at the door and barking, forcing James to get over his new bout of freshly discovered anxiety – a most horrible sensation that needed to be eradicated off the face of the earth – and get out of the car before someone called the cops.

Getting past the doorman without him alerting Q was the easiest thing in the world. The man was excited to see him and expressed his happiness to see that they truly were friends outside of social media and that he was indeed taking care of Duke so of course, he agreed not to phone ahead to let Q know that he was coming up if he wanted to pleasantly surprise him. He was also more than helpful with getting Duke cleaned up a little, the dog having managed to find the biggest puddle to jump into just outside the building – Duke was less happy about the cleaning but he kept his whining to a pathetic level like he understood that if he made too much noise, he wouldn’t get to see Q.

The elevator ride to the penthouse was a paradox. It managed to be agonisingly long and cruelly short at the same time. Same with the hallway that led to Q’s apartment – too long and too short at the same time. Not that he could linger in it and decide on its length since Duke had caught Q’s scent and he was practically bouncing off the walls.

With a heart the size of a flea and legs that were more jelly than anything else, James rang the doorbell. His first thought was, of course, that he didn’t press the button correctly. What if it had been too short and Q was so sick that his ears had clogged up and didn’t hear it? Should he push is again? Or, wait. What if he pushed it too long and gave Q a headache? If he rang again, Q might think that he’s a deranged person who somehow managed to sneak past the doorman and if he saw it was him, he’d find a way to have an even worse opinion of him than he already had.

That everything had come up as a single thought in James’ mind and he vaguely remembered having a similar one when he had been 10 and his mother had set up a ‘playdate’ for him and the cute girl that lived in the small house next to his school.

It was a miracle he didn’t squeal when Q finally opened the door. He looked more dead than alive, trying to hide his swaying but clutching tightly to the door’s frame, eyes out of focus despite the glasses that rested on his red and slightly swollen nose.

“So she said that you can take two of these right away even if you didn't eat anything and then wait half an hour and eat something and if you don't feel any better, you can take these in three hours, but we can't mix them with these because they are stronger so we can start with them, but you need to eat first and wait like half an hour before you take them but if you take these other ones, you cannot eat at all, but if you do get hungry you won't be able to eat or take anything else until tomorrow, but I can rub this one your chest. Sorry I was drunk and sorry I was a jerk while being drunk.” He felt something moving in his breast pocket and he quickly held out the kitten for Q to take. “Oh, and this.”

Q carefully put the bags down and blinked slowly. “What?”

James took a deep breath and got ready to reiterate everything. “The drug store lady said—”

“No, no,” Q interrupted, stepping to the side to show the inside of his apartment which was filled with balloons, fruit baskets, giant plush cats, and flowers. “I got everything already. M's secretary let it slip to everyone I worked with in the past that I am sick. My question has more to do with _this_.” He nodded to the purring cat in James’ hands that Duke kept trying to lick.

“Well, you like cats and this little fella was just standing on my hood after I bought the soup and there was no mom around and Duke seemed to like him and the vet said he’s fine after he washed him and gave him a shot and—”

“That might be kind and sweet, Mister Bond,” Q said, no hatred when saying his family name – it still stung, but less than before. There was also softness in Q’s eyes, something that was missing when he first opened the door but he was paying full attention to the kitty and Duke, so it made sense. “However, I’m not exactly equipped to take care of a cat. Did you also bring something for it?”

James opened his mouth and then shut it, handing Q Duke’s leash and running back into the elevator. There were some days when he too marvelled at his own stupidity and today was such a day. How could it not have crossed his mind that Q didn’t own a single thing a pet-owner would need?

God, he was an extra dumbass when he was panicking and trying to right his wrongs.

Q’s doorman was kind enough to point him to the nearest pet shop from which he bought everything the keeper said he’d need – James got the feeling that he had spent way more than he should, especially on the ‘Fancy Kitty Potty 5000’ but better safe than sorry – and was pretty sure he beat some kind of record because he was back in front of Q’s apartment in less than one hour.

He expected to be stopped at the door but the man just whistled as he ran passed him. Then he was sure that Q would greet him by throwing the soup in his face. That too didn’t come to pass so James was stuck staring at a confused and tired who had the kitten cuddled to his chest while also struggling to hold up Duke.

“If you were trying to find out if Duke wants to eat the cat,” Q started, voice very scratchy that if James closed his eyes, he could easily imagine a wolf talking to him, “then I am happy to report that he doesn’t. He is, however, very jealous.”

Message received and the feeling of ‘bad’ was upped by three more levels. At this point, he was ready to call his lawyer and sign over every penny he owned. “I’m afraid that he picked that from me. But I’m sure he’s less of a jackass than me.”

Q arched an eyebrow but moved to the side, motioning James to enter. “The medicine Doctor Pierce prescribed is wearing off and that means that everything is starting to hurt again so don’t be an ass.”

This is normally where James would have made a joke about Q surely being okay with him being a sexy ass but this was serious and he dug deep within himself to remember all the lessons his parents taught him when he was young. He made sure to take off his shoes and put them in the proper spot, he watched Q’s face to make sure that it was okay for him to hang his jacket next to his on the rack, he waited to be invited deeper inside the apartment and he did not sit until he was told to sit.

“You are freaking me out,” Q said while coming out from the kitchen holding two bowls of hot soup, Duke hot on his tracks, mewling kitten secured and making its displeasure known from the chest pocket of his robe. “Are you trying to make sure that I won't sue you?”

James took a deep breath, trying to quiet his mind and focus on a single starting point. “I want to apologize. I don’t know what came over me— Well, I _do_ but I know that it was wrong and I swear that it was the first time this happened.” He cringed after saying that, recognizing that if he had someone telling him that, he wouldn’t believe them. “My ex-wives can actually attest to this,” he added and then cringed again. “Wait, I wrote the apology down.”

Q lifted his hand to stop James and he froze. “Alec and Eve attested to that already and I was also supplied with some pictures that I think might have an idea about what set you off.” He showed James his phone, huffing when he saw how he clenched his jaw when he saw the picture of him and Safin. “I thought that move was suspicious and I did feel like he was up to something. Still…”

“It’s no excuse for the way I acted and what I said,” James finished for Q. He felt cold and empty all of a sudden and he knew why. Had he been mature, he would have asked Q about the pictures from the start and avoided this. Had he been emotionally mature, he’d been able to express how worried he’d been that night in Russia and why he was constantly terrified of losing him and probably laughed about those pictures the following day. Had he actually owned a brain, he wouldn’t have been a prick hell-bent on taking petty revenge as was tradition when it came to managers, he wouldn’t part ways with Q. “I’m truly sorry for everything, Quentin. You deserve a better client and a better friend. You are a god among mortals, both as a human and as a manager.” It didn’t make sense but he knew Q understood what he wanted to say.

He got up and called Duke over, sighing when the dog tried to hide himself under Q’s blankets. A sentiment he very much shared with Duke but something he’d never get to do because of how much of a dumbass he’d been. He called Duke again but Q stopped the dog from going to him, fixing his narrowed eyes on James.

“Do you want me to quit?” James quickly shook his head, not trusting his voice. “Then you are not losing me as your manager.” James almost fell on the ground from relief but smartly stumbled back to the chair and sat down, making Q crack a small smile. “If you wish to keep me company while I am in this sorry state, I won’t stop you. But I will ask you to help me build that enormous cat tree you brought.”

James would have been happy to be invited to ask pain dry with Q. “I won’t ever be a moron of that calibre again,” he promised, daring to pull Q in a tight hug which was shyly returned, their cheeks brushing together when they pulled apart. A touch that surprisingly didn’t send James in a euphoric state and that was because he was reminded of the fact that Q was sick as a dog. “You’re burning up. Do you want me to call you an ambulance or—”

“Relax, I just need to take what Pierce gave me and combine that with proper rest,” Q said softly, forcing him to sit back down on the chair. “Thank you for the food and for the kitten,” he added in a soft voice, pressing a kiss to the top of said kitten’s head before also kissing the insulted Duke and James melted.

“Anything for you, Q.”


	26. WTF, Quentin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I wrote an Epilogue soooo....one more to go after this!

Q had sulked on the verge of tears after that last show. His nerves were already frayed from the flight and had hoped that everything would go smoothly for their final bang. No, not hoped; he had been _sure_.

Everyone was healthy, all the permits were signed and in order, the weather was absolutely lovely for this time of the year in London, no bomb threats were received, no surprise plague broke out, and no drama between the band members. It made sense for him to think that the show wouldn’t be affected by his _indisposition_ caused by the very long flight. Plus, he didn’t have a choice when he booked the stadium almost a year prior; they would either perform a day after they returned from Russia or one month later, when the impact of the tour coming to an end would have fizzled out.

It would be a lie to say that he never had to deal with prima donnas. That was every client he had for the first three years which helped form him as a manager so he knew how to deal with them but hearing _James_ saying all of that… It hurt him to the core.

Alec and Eve practically teleported to his apartment after finding out what had happened, caring bags of all sorts of small gifts they offered him alongside their apologies and assurances that no one agreed with James. They sort of tried to excuse his behaviour but not in the way that would imply he needed to forgive him. Nor was it to emotionally blackmail him to keep working with them if he didn’t want to which made him love them even more.

He did not expect James to show up at his door and for a bit, he thought the man to be either drunk again or plagued with a high fever. He certainly didn’t make any sense at the beginning and the kitten just confused him even more. Q almost laughed when he realized that James was doing his best to apologize but bit his tongue to not discourage the stressed, obviously sleep-deprived, rock star that was trying to rightfully make amends for what he’d done.

Should he have kicked James out after tormenting him some more? A lot of people would have probably said yes but Q did believe James’ promise. Plus, the insulting and ridding of managers in the past had been a group effort and Q couldn’t remember reading a single bad thing about James from his ex-wives – well, outside of them hinting that he didn’t pay enough attention to them – so he saw nothing wrong with giving him another chance.

When they hugged, Q didn’t want it to end. And when they slowly pulled apart, their lips so close that the thought of a pout would result in a kiss, Q hated that he was sick and that he didn’t know if James was tormented by the same need in the back of his mind. His feverish state amplified that voice and the fact that James was somehow _adorable_ while trying to make himself useful around the house – and failing – didn’t make it any easier for Q to distract himself from his feelings.

“I was mean earlier when I asked you to build that thing,” Q said after watching James struggling for a good half an hour trying to figure out which pieces were supposed to be the bottom of the cat tree and which screws went with them. The whole scene was made even more domestic by the fact that the kitten was currently crawling up James’ back while Duke was running around him in circles, trying to steal parts of the cat tree. “I never knew how to put those things together but I do know someone who can.”

“We don’t need a stranger for this thing,” James grumbled, visibly trying not to crumple the instruction manual into a ball and set it on fire. “I just need to find the order – the right order, mind you, not the one they’re blatantly _lying_ about in here – and it will be done before you know it.”

Q chuckled, burrowing deeper under the many covers and stifling a yawn. “Well, I wouldn’t call him a stranger since you technically already met him twice but it wasn’t at the right time to make introductions. And he is on his way over anyway so why not let him build that infernal thing?”

James resembled an eerie haunted doll when he oh so slowly turned to look at Q. “I can go if you want me.”

Maybe it was the fever but Q couldn’t fathom why James would want to leave or why the colour had drained from his face. “I mean he did want to punch you the second time you saw him and he was less than happy about me being sick, but my brother—”

“Your brother?” James interrupted, crawling over to Q with a very confusing smile on his face. “That guy being your brother would explain why I thought he was familiar.”

“Older brother, yes,” Q said slowly, pulling back slightly – Pierce had said it was pneumonia and he had the x-rays to prove it but he didn’t want to risk it. “Are you feeling okay?”

James stayed quiet for a while, frowning in such a way that he looked his real age for the first time since Q saw him. It wasn’t that he looked ancient or that he was ugly like this; if anything, Q found him even more beautiful, and he was sure everyone in the world would agree with him but seeing him like this was both interesting and a little bit worrisome. You could see him thinking things over, carefully picking which words to use in his mind and it was agonizing.

Finally, James started speaking, keeping his eyes lowered and away from his and almost whispering. “I thought he was your boyfriend when I saw him and I was very jealous.” It looked like James was blushing. But rock stars didn’t blush, right? “I thought I looked better and that I clearly make more money, so what did he have to make you choose him? Other than the common sense not to be a petty idiot shooting himself in his foot while drowning in self-pity, of course. And God knows how many things in common but I think you know how dumb I am by now.”

“I told you the truth about me not having a boyfriend and he is my big brother,” Q blurted out, pushing his hand against James’ forehead just in case he too had a high fever that he wasn’t aware of. 

James’ laugh was a bitter one and he took Q’s hand in his and pressed it against his cheek, brushing his lips against it. “And I doubted you. You were always truthful to me and yet, I still thought…” He trailed off and the both of them stayed silent and frozen until James spoke again. “You’re too _mesmerizing_ and smart and beautiful and kind not to have a partner to love you and worship you.”

Dumbfounded, Q started at James and didn’t do or say anything until the other started pulling away moment in which he squeezed his hand tightly and pulled him back with so much force that he dragged James on top of him. “Give me a moment to process this, James. I’m a sick man, after all and I’m afraid I’m not reading things right.”

James got more comfortable on top of Q and started to run his free hand through his hair. “I more than like you, darling Quentin. I adore you. I want to sleep with you. I want to wake up next to you and play with your hair while Duke sleeps curled at our feet and the kitten is bouncing around us because it wants attention. I want to push you up against a wall and kiss you senseless in any and every moment of the day and I want to get to know you _biblically_ against every surface of the world.”

“Maybe I am reading this wrong,” Q said slowly, eyeing James’ lips. He was going to be so pissed if this was a fever dream. Sex-dreams were one thing and he could live with them even though he woke up slightly grumpy and uncomfortable but at least his own brain wasn’t making him feel loved.

Chuckling, James leaned closer, his lips _almost_ brushing against Q’s as he continued his confession. “I want to say ‘this is my boyfriend, my lover, my muse, and my better-half, Q’. I want to cook for you in the nude. I want you to play the violin for me in the nude. The list goes on and it’s sappy and kinky and it involves you and me and no one else. But what do _you_ want, Q? Just a friend? Because I will do my best to move on and I swear that I will wish you nothing but the best. Do you want to manage another band and never see me again? Because I will avoid you like the plague. Or do you want the same?”

“You know, I never kissed a guy with a tongue piercing.”

As horrible as that line was, James was more than happy to comply. He kept eye contact with Q when he brushed their lips together and when he felt Q part his to softly suckle on his lower lip, he closed them and gave into the deep kiss that followed. He pushed against Q and sneaked his arms around his middle, making it impossible to know where one started and the other ended.

The piercing in his mouth was _something_. Though he expected it, Q was still started by it at first, afraid that he’d hurt James if he touched it for too long or that he’d make a wrong move and make James swallow it. James let him roll his tongue over it, waiting for him to get used to feeling it before starting to move his own tongue against Q’s. Soon, curiosity gave way to hunger and neediness and both tried to give and take everything, Q feeling the room around them start to spin out of control due to the lack of air.

He made a disappointed sound in the back of his throat when James pulled away and tried to glare at him through half-lidded eyes but utterly failed. Now that the feelings were out in the open, he couldn’t mask the utter admiration he had for him and though his eyesight was poor, he was sure he saw the same in James’ eyes.

James leaned in for another kiss that Q was eager to return but Duke suddenly lost interest in grooming the kitten and started to bark and growl at the door. Q tensed and hugged James tighter, keeping him from rolling away just as his brother walked in.

“What the fuck, Quentin?”


End file.
